World In Chains
by ArixaBell
Summary: In the late 900s, the Jotuns won the war, and the Earth. Humans are kept in secured districts, or taken as personal slaves. In the present, Tony Stark is finally selected as a slave, and given to a runt Jotun prince. A prince who has never been fond of slavery, and might be the key to ending it. It won't be an easy journey, though, for any of them.
1. Chapter 1

_In the late 900s, the Jotuns won the war, and the Earth. Humans are kept in secured districts, or taken as personal slaves. In the present, Tony Stark is finally selected as a slave, and given to a runt Jotun prince. A prince who has never been fond of slavery, and might be the key to ending it. It won't be an easy journey, though, for any of them._

_Fill for a kink meme prompt. Normally I don't start posting those types of fics here until I'm all done (well, my previous fandom's kink meme was anonymous only, so I didn't have a choice), but I couldn't wait anymore.  
><em>

_So just a warning. While there is no actual noncon in this story, there are various mentions of past noncon, due to the crapsack nature of this world. _

* * *

><p>"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Tony leaned against the immense wall, arms folded. He looked up at the woman attempting to scale it, a scrawny young thing in rags, just a teenager really. Then he quickly averted his eyes. "And if you do want to climb over the wall, at least wear underwear.."<p>

"Can't afford any," the girl said, glaring down. She did a double-take as she realized to whom she was speaking. "Not like you."

"Yeah, I have underwear," Tony said casually. "I'll lend you some. Get down here."

"No." She looked back up, toward the top of the wall, her destination. "I'll take my chances. You know what's waiting for me in here?" She snorted. "Of course you do, though you don't have to worry about it yourself..."

"Maybe, maybe not." Tony had lasted this long without being selected as a slave for the same reason he had more money than the average human. He was brilliant, and he made things for their Jotun masters. Mainly weapons. "But out there is certain death. If the Jotuns don't kill you for escaping, an animal will, or one of the bands of wild men." Everyone knew the humans that managed to survive out in the wild, on their own, hiding from the Jotuns, were not much better than the wild animals. "If you seek death, just get it over with and end your life in here."

"You ran," she accused.

"Yeah, and we all know how well that turned out." Tony smirked up at her, tapping his chest. "The group of us that escaped was attacked by wild men, attacked with weapons that I probably built for the Jotuns. I was the only survivor, badly wounded, and they took me, and..." He trailed off with a shrug. "Well, you know. Long story, everybody's familiar with it. Now I have this keeping me alive." He gestured to the glowing circle in his chest again, the arc reactor he had built from parts of weapons the wild men had foolishly not hidden from him. "I was lucky. Do you think you will be?"

"I'm the only one left..." the girl said, sagging against the wall, her voice sounding exhausted and much too old. It was enough to tug at one's heartstrings, if one hadn't heard the same story a thousand times over. It was everybody's story. "My parents a long time ago, then my brother. Now they've taken my sister."

She must have an attractive family, then. Looking up at her again, Tony figured she'd be quite cute if she cleaned herself up, put on a little weight. "I know," he said. "They've taken everything from me, too. From all of us. It's the fate of humans." He could still picture it so clearly in his mind, the day they had come for Pepper. Years later it still gave him nightmares. He tried hard not to think about her anymore; once his mind started going down the path of wondering where she was now...

"Just get down," Tony said, finally stepping away from the wall that encircled their city, Five Oh Two. "Out there is death. Life sucks, but it's the only one we've got." He walked away without bothering to look back and see if the girl was climbing down, or continuing her suicidal journey. He supposed it didn't really matter.

Five Oh Two looked almost identical to the other cities Tony had seen. He doubted there was much variety in any of the enclosed, guarded districts around the world. Small, drab gray buildings that housed as many families as possible, dirty streets, children rummaging around in garbage cans for some food, the air dismal and smoky from the factories they were forced to work in. It was common for people to assume that other cities were nicer, but Tony was one of the few who had seen more than one in his day. He knew the truth. It was the same, the world over. Far in the distance, beyond the wall, were the spires of a Jotun city, barely visible through the smog.

Tony resumed his tasks from before he was interrupted by escapee wannabes. He walked through the crowded streets, past other humans going about their pointless lives. A couple children were harvesting vegetables from a meager garden, which might have been a happy sight if not for the Frost Giants waiting nearby to collect. Even worse, not far from there was an attractive young man being dragged from his home in chains. An older woman was collapsed against the front door, sobbing. It was hard to just walk on by when a lady was crying, so Tony headed that way.

She barely glanced at him as Tony sat down beside her. But she didn't tell him to leave. Tony really had no idea why people looked up to him, why they turned to him. By all rights they should hate him for having more than them.

"My boy..." she finally said, drawing in a shuddering breath. Tony looked at her, noting that her face was scarred. That likely explained why _she_ had never been taken as a slave.

"Only child?" Tony asked, and she shook her head.

"Two others." She stared down at a spot on the ground, eyes faraway. "But they're twins. The Frost Giants have always found that fascinating, they were taken young..."

"Oh." There really wasn't any comfort he could offer, so he just sat there, willing to listen to whatever she might want to get off her chest.

"They'll tear him apart..." she whispered.

Tony blinked. "What?"

"When they... you know." She gestured vaguely. "He's being given to a male. They're so much bigger than we are. When they... you know..."

"Oh." Tony grimaced. "That." He smirked. "Never seen a Frost Giant naked, have you?"

"No," she said with a frown. "You have?"

"Yep." He leaned back, head thudding against the door. "I'm not a slave. But with my work, I deal with them a lot. They've occasionally used me for their pleasure, too." He said it matter-of-factly, though she still shuddered. "Yeah, they'll be all, 'Why thank you for the delivery, Mr. Stark, these missiles are excellent. The Jotuns in Europe have been eyeing us funny, we might just use these on them. Oh, and I'm in the mood, and your ass is looking nice, go bend over that table'. And see, I'm obviously in one piece." The woman was staring at him, eyes wide. "To our eyes, proportionately, the Frost Giants aren't very well hung. They're a little bigger than a human male is all."

"Oh." Her voice was very small. "Okay."

So at least that was one thing Tony could offer her. She could never have her family back, but at least her son wasn't going to be ripped open the first time he was used as a sex toy. Really, humans had been Jotun slaves for a millennium, Tony was kind of surprised people still thought their bodies were incompatible.

"You shouldn't say things like that about them," she said after several long moments. "They might hear. They'd punish you."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Tony said with a wry smile. His back ached in phantom pain at the memory. "Take my advice. Never make a crude joke about the missile you're delivering..." She didn't seem to find the humor in that, simply shuddering, and Tony shrugged.

Unable to find much other comfort to offer, he left the grieving woman and finished his chores, then finally returned home. Tony was one of the only people in Five Oh Two that had the luxury of living alone. It was a small, cramped, single room home, but still a luxury. Tony set down his purchases – mostly metal to be used in new weapons – and started in on dinner. He heated up some beans, and added a couple tomatoes to the side from a small plant the Jotuns hadn't noticed yet. After eating, he worked a bit on some weapons that were supposed to be delivered next week, and then it was time for bed. Technically. Tony usually put off sleeping as long as possible; sleep meant dreams and dreams meant remembering the faces of loved ones being dragged away to a life of slavery and never seen again. Even his robotic companions had been taken from him.

So Tony kept himself busy, working on missiles and guns, or reading, or doodling sketches for possible future projects he thought their masters might appreciate, until he finally dropped from exhaustion into a happily dreamless sleep.

The morning brought a stiff neck from the odd position he had fallen asleep in. Tony rubbed it with a grimace, standing up from the floor and looking mournfully at the small bed in the corner. He really needed to remember to at least drag himself over there before falling asleep.

He pulled on a clean shirt and pair of jeans, mentally plotting out his day. It wasn't much different than most days, the only interesting thing that happened anymore was when he made home deliveries. And that was never interesting in a good way.

He had just finished a piece of toast when a knock came at the door. Tony double-checked his calendar to make sure he had nothing planned, then shrugged and went to answer it. His guts tied into knots at the sight of two Jotuns.

"Uh, hey, guys." He forced a broad smile. He was good at that, feigning cheeriness and charm. Charm oozed out of his pores. "I thought the delivery date was next week?"

"It was," said one of them. "Your services as a weapon builder are no longer required."

Of all the things Tony had expected him to say, that was not one of them. He swallowed, mouth dry. "What? Who are you going to go to, Hammer? You know I'm the best." If he didn't make shiny toys for them, he had nothing.

"You have done plenty for us. We will find somebody else."

Tony just stared at them, heart hammering. Frozen in shock, all he could think was _What did I do?_ And _What do I do now?_

The Frost Giant that hadn't spoken lunged forward then, grabbing Tony and holding him steady, and Tony was too shocked to struggle. The touch was cold, sending a shiver through him, but not the frostbite-causing chill they were capable of.

The other one clamped a set of manacles around his wrists, and that was when fear really set in. Tony struggled futilely against them in a blind panic, easily subdued by the muscular giants. He stared up at them, barely able to breathe, wondering _why_ this was happening to him now. His numbed mind could only process _No, no, no, no..._

There was a huge crowd of wide-eyed people gathered around to watch as Tony was led away in chains.


	2. Chapter 2

Every city Tony had seen was more depressing than the last. Each new walled district crammed to the brim with human misery that he encountered convinced him it was the most depressing spot in the world. It was all in his head, there wasn't much difference between any of them, but the feeling had still persisted.

How ignorant he had been then. The slave processing center made all those miserable hellholes seem like slices of paradise. It was huge, sterile and unwelcoming, echoing with the cries of the hopeless. Tony felt numb as he was forced through its dark halls, felt like this was happening to someone else.

The first place in the vast building Tony had been dragged to was the showers. Which was simply a big tiled room, drains scattered on the floor. His clothes were stripped from him and he was pushed roughly against a wall. One of the Frost Giants approached with what looked like a hose, and Tony closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He grimaced as the freezing blast of water struck him, shivering. The cold seeped into his bones as every speck of dirt was washed from him. And then the water was gone, and he was being roughly dried. The only clothing he was given was a loincloth tied around his waist, green decorated with gold and black embroidery. That alone made him realize his new master was somebody special. On the occasion he had had to have the misfortune of seeing personal slaves in his life, their small amount of clothing had always been quite plain. Hooray for Tony.

As he was dragged out of the shower room and through the dismal halls, Tony saw other slaves. Some were naked, some were dressed in brief clothing like Tony, some were dirty and bruised, all looked miserable with deadened eyes. The few that still had life left in them stared at Tony in surprise, at his glowing chest. Several slaves had designs on their skin, either paint or tattoos, reminiscent of the markings of their masters. It was kind of strange to think that, on their home planet, Jotuns wore little more than slaves did, while on the warmer Earth they covered their bodies. To nearly nude slaves, their fully clothed masters just reminded them of their position. Maybe that had been the original reason for a race that didn't feel the cold fully dressing themselves.

His next destination was a room where slaves were being groomed. One was having his hair trimmed, another her face painted. Tony was forced onto a chair, and a female Jotun made an attempt to tame his hair, then trimmed his goatee. He was vaguely surprised they weren't just shaving him bare-faced, but apparently they wanted to keep his signature style. His eyes were lined with kohl, and just a bit of rouge applied to his cheeks. And then another Jotun joined her with bottles of what appeared to be black paint, and they started using him as their canvas. Like the other slaves he had seen, he was decorated with swirling designs. He was informed that it was a type of stain, that would fade after a few months but would not be wiped or washed away. He could only assume it was the markings of his new master's family, but despite the centuries of coexistence, humans had never been taught to read them. It took some time for them to finish, and Tony ended up mentally going over the schematics of a new gun, as if he would be able to get back to work once they were finished here.

He was taken to room after room. He was thoroughly inspected for imperfections or ailments, he was reminded of the duties of slaves – as if any human could ever forget – and of the horrible fate that awaited if he ever disobeyed. He was to do anything his master wanted without question, he was to clean house and prepare meals without being asked. He was to be available whenever his master wanted pleasure, and regardless of what they had done during the day he was to present himself naked in his master's bed at a certain time every night, to be dismissed if his master was not in the mood. It was during that long lecture of information that Tony was already well aware of that he found out his master was male, unless they simply said 'he' out of habit.

There was a little excitement in the middle of those lectures. Tony heard a ruckus from some distance away, shouting, scuffling, that soon came to an abrupt end. He found out later that a slave had tried to run. One of the Frost Giants had an amused expression when he casually informed Tony that gelded horses were better behaved, and the same applied to slaves as well.

Then it was back to the lessons. Tony was informed that his master was a very important Jotun, and so Tony would be frequently checked on, scrutinized, to make sure they hadn't made a mistake in choosing him as the lucky slave.

Tony knew that humans taken as personal slaves had shorter average lifespans than the non-slaves, he had read a time or two that it was possibly only fifty years. Even if he was starting his life of slavery later than most, maybe he would still only have to put up with this for a decade or so. It was something to ponder.

What turned out to be his final destination in the slave complex was the room where he was fitted for a collar. It was sleek and black, with a gold loop in front for a leash to be connected, which they did. Tony wasn't sure whether being led around on a leash was preferable to being bodily dragged.

He again felt detached, like this couldn't possibly be him on a leash. Not Tony Stark. They counted on him for his brilliant weapons, they would not do this to him. Slavery happened to other people. He pitied them, tried to help where he could, but it was not a fate that awaited him.

"Is he ready?" one of the Giants asked.

"Good enough for the runt," said another, and was quickly shushed by his comrades, all of them casting nervous looks around them.

Tony blinked in surprise, shaken out of his detachment. The runt? Did they mean the prince? That was the only runt Tony had ever heard of... Prince Loki, the only member of the royal family living full-time on Earth. It was hard to get a read on how the rest of the Jotuns truly felt about him. They spoke of him respectfully, at least around humans. But it was easy to see the scorn hidden beneath their pretty words. Even now, they told Tony that he was the lucky human, chosen as he was the only one deemed worthy of belonging to his special master. And then he was just 'good enough'.

The prince himself was an enigma. He had little to do with humans, and few outside the palace even knew what he looked like. He was supposed to be attractive, though Tony took that with a grain of salt, given what the average Jotun looked like. He had once overheard a few Giants speaking lustfully of him, but at the time Tony had figured they were speaking of another Loki. It was a common enough name – most royal names were – and surely nobody would speak of their prince that way.

There were rumors that he hated humans. There were rumors that he liked humans. All likely invented as reasons behind his lack of interest in consorting with them. Tony supposed he would be finding out the hard way which rumor was true soon enough.

And so they finally left the horrible slave compound behind. A woman was wailing as they left, and Tony tried to tune it out lest the sound haunt his nightmares.

There was a truck waiting for them outside, its windows darkened to hide the driver, the back filled to capacity with slaves. The Jotun dragging Tony still managed to shove him in with the others, slamming the door shut.

They stared at him. Tony looked away to avoid the miserable gazes. Nobody spoke, though there were plenty of whimpers and sobs. They were all freshly cleaned and made up like Tony, though that did not stop the stale tang of sweat that filled the truck. Fearing that somebody, at some point, would want to talk to him over the course of their journey, Tony closed his eyes and leaned against the side of the truck. At least he had been wedged into the side and _had_ something to lean against besides another slave.

He slept. It was a light sleep, frequently interrupted by cries of slaves, bumps in the road, and the truck stopping every so often so that a slave could be removed, to be delivered to their new home. The restless sleep was filled with odd dreams that he could not remember upon waking, but left him feeling more tired.

Twice a day the truck came to a stop and all of the slaves were allowed off to attend to their needs, and to eat the bowls of gruel they were offered. Tony ate mechanically, not tasting anything, and unsure if that was from his shocked state or if the food really was that tasteless. A time or two one of the other slaves approached him while they were stopped, but he deftly avoided conversation.

It was several days at least before Tony was removed alone from the truck. He could have kept track if he had counted the number of stops, but he hadn't bothered. He was again briefly inspected, right there in the middle of the city, and his makeup reapplied.

The city around them was a typical Jotun city of tall, bleak buildings. The one they approached was enormous, a palace, seeming almost as large as an entire human district. A pair of Jotun guards stood outside the massive front door, one armed with a spear and the other with a gun Tony himself had designed for them. The guards eyed Tony as he was tugged past them, but said nothing.

The interior of the palace was nowhere near as bad as the intimidating outside implied. The palace was richly furnished, even just in the hallways, like no place Tony had ever seen before. Green was the dominant color along with the typical Jotun blue, and there was more gold than Tony had seen in his entire life.

There were also more Frost Giants in one place than he had seen in his life. Guards, servants, nobles, and goodness knew what else. And they all turned to watch Tony as he was led through the halls. Some stared in surprise, some whispered to their companions, some watched with open lust burning in their crimson eyes. Tony did his best to keep his eyes on the floor in front of him as he walked, ignoring everyone's stares.

It felt like hours before they reached the end of their journey, arriving at a door flanked by a pair of especially brawny guards. They opened the vast golden doors for the newcomers, and Tony was jerked inside without fanfare. He was shoved into a lushly decorated room, his leash violently tugged until he dropped to his knees. But curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his head to get a good look at the Jotun who would be making the rest of his life a living hell.

Tony blinked in surprise. The Jotun standing from his plush seat was... about the opposite of what he expected. When somebody said 'runt Jotun', he pictured maybe seven or eight feet tall. This one looked no taller than many human men. Taller than Tony, but a lot of men were. In fact, everything about him besides his blue, marked skin and red eyes looked human. Tony was starting to wonder if he wasn't so much 'runt' as he was 'half-breed', though he was certain there would be rumors if that had any possibility of truth. He was slender, he actually had hair, and he was rather pretty, if Tony were honest. He was dressed from head to toe in black leather and green silk. He also looked an unsettling combination of confused and pissed as he looked back and forth between Tony and the Jotuns.

"What is this?" the prince asked in a low voice, red eyes wide as he stared at them. Great, so Tony was a surprise gift. His master might not even want him, that would be fun.

The Frost Giant to Tony's left jerked on the leash again, tugging him upright. "This is Tony Stark-"

"I know who it is," the prince snapped, and didn't that just make Tony feel special. "Why is he here? Dressed like that?"

"He is for you, Prince Loki, a gift from your father."

His expression hardened ever so slightly at the mention of the king. "I see."

"He insists," the other said. When Tony glanced up at him, he'd swear the bastard was smirking. "He asked us to choose the most worthy human for you." Wow, Tony's ego just wasn't going to get a break... "But worry not, my prince. With us and everyone else in the palace keeping an eye on him, punishment will be swift if he steps out of line. He will be a good slave for you."

"Yes, thank you. You may go." Loki strode toward Tony as the two captors finally retreated, leaving them alone. "I knew this would happen one day."

Tony swallowed the casual inquiry that sprang to his lips. He was going to have to remind himself very frequently of his position... It would be a lot easier if the prince looked more like a typical Jotun. "Master?" He was proud of how smoothly he said it.

"I have never wanted a slave," he said bitterly. "Father is well aware of that. I knew he would eventually insist."

"I'm sorry," Tony said, for lack of anything else to say. Yeah, this was going to be great, a spoiled prince who hated slaves.

"I must send him a message."

And with that, the prince swept out of the room, leaving Tony alone. He stared after his new master in surprise. What did he do _now_? Letting out a deep breath, Tony sank back to his knees near the chair (throne?). There wasn't much to do beside wait for the bastard to return to make the rest of his life miserable.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony jerked to attention, startled as the door opened. He had lost track of how long he knelt there, just waiting, his legs cramping painfully. And now it seemed his master was finally returning, so Tony returned his gaze to the floor, as a good slave was taught.

Loki froze as he spotted Tony, red eyes wide. "You're still there."

"Yes, Master." Those words would never feel right on his tongue. A lifetime of servitude, a millennium of his race's enslavement, would never make them feel right.

The prince studied him, frowning, the only expression he seemed capable of. "Are the rumors false? I have heard of you, Tony Stark, but you were never described as a docile slave."

"That was before," Tony said. "If I'm anything but your docile slave, I'll be killed. Unpleasantly."

"I would not..." If anything, Loki's expression grew more sour. Tony didn't respond, but he didn't have to. "But somebody would. They will all be watching, making sure you act the proper slave. And that I treat you as such."

"That's the idea," Tony said, then grimaced. "I mean... Yes, Master. You're right."

Loki folded his arms, sighing, as if this whole situation was such a terrible ordeal for him. Tony bit the inside of his cheek to prevent something snarky from escaping. _If you don't want a slave, send me back to my life... It wasn't much, but it was better than this._ He had never thought he would actually miss his little hovel in his miserable little district, surrounded by filth and suffering. Building weapons for their masters, his rewards money and rape. And a beating if his smart mouth got away from him. But dammit, at least that hadn't been a daily thing. At least most of his time was spent creating, even if it was tools for destruction. Now... well, one of his duties was preparing meals, unless the prince already had a chef (and why wouldn't he?). That might be as far as his creativity was allowed to extend.

But he knew he would not be freed, Loki would clearly do so if he could. It seemed the king was really intent on his son having a slave of his own.

"Then I shall have to treat you as such," Loki said, looking and sounding like he had eaten a bad lemon.

_Goodie._ Tony did not answer out loud. Poor spoiled prince, having to treat his slave like a slave. Life was hard.

"I have nothing ready for a guest..." Loki muttered. Guest? Really? "They need to prepare a room."

Tony sent him a baffled look. "I am expected to sleep in your room," he said. "Master. Beside your bed, if not in it." A personal slave having his own room, such a thought. It was certainly a nice idea, anyway.

"Yes, of course..." Loki rubbed a hand down his face. "But we should have privacy in my room, at least; nobody would come barging in unannounced."

"And..." Tony swallowed. "And what do you have planned for me when we know we are alone?"

"Nothing." Loki swept past him again, toward the door. But this time he paused, turning back to Tony with an impatient expression. "Come." They stared at each other for a long moment, before Loki's eyes flicked down to the leash that hung from Tony's collar. With a world-weary sigh, he stepped closer, leaning down to snatch it up. Tony had to actually bite his tongue to prevent himself from making a sarcastic apology for what an inconvenience he was being. Hell, a better slave probably _would _apologize, and mean it.

Loki led him back through the palace's halls, back past the guards and nobles who stared and whispered amongst themselves. Some remembered themselves and bowed to their prince as he passed by, but not all. Loki seemed to just ignore everybody. Tony did as well, concentrating instead on trying to memorize the layout, not wanting to ever get lost and have to ask a Jotun for directions. He would avoid interacting with anyone but his new master – scratch that, he would avoid interacting with everyone, whenever he could. He briefly entertained the mental image of himself wrapping the leash around the prince's neck, but hell, this wasn't his idea either.

The room he was eventually led to was unsurprisingly large and fancy. The bedroom itself was larger than Tony's entire house, dominated by a bed (which also seemed larger than his entire house) enclosed in green curtains. The plush carpeting under his bare feet led him to musing that sleeping on the floor might not be the worst thing in the world. Bookshelves lined one wall, a large and well-used desk sat in a corner. The door to an adjoining bathroom lay open, and Tony caught a glimpse of the immense sunken tub inside and his eyes widened.

"Well... stay here." Loki tossed the leash down. "I will return in the evening."

There were worse places Tony could have been stashed. He wondered if he would get in trouble for touching anything, a book perhaps. The thought of just sitting and waiting all day did not appeal. "Do you need me to do anything, Master?" It wasn't like the room appeared to be in need of cleaning.

"No." Loki glanced at Tony, tilting his head. "Maybe take a bath." He left before Tony had a chance to thank him – and actually mean it, because that bathtub looked _really_ inviting to somebody whose species was rarely granted the luxury of hot water.

Tony wasted no time in getting the tub filled with steaming water. He curiously inspected some of the crystal bottles that lined it, each filled with some sort of floral smelling liquid that was probably meant to accompany the bath. But it was highly unlikely they were meant for slaves, and Tony did not want to smell like flowers, so he left the water plain.

He ignored the mirrors, not wanting to see himself covered with slave markings. He kept his eyes firmly forward as he removed the very little clothing he wore, and stepped into the water with a sigh. He sank down to his neck in the water, letting his head fall back against the tub's edge, trying to blank his mind. He did not want to dwell on his situation. He did not want to dwell on what it meant to be owned by a master who had no desire to own a slave, no desire to treat him as a slave, but would have to anyway.

But dwell on it he did. He wasn't even sure anymore if he should consider this a good or bad situation. He was still somebody's personal property. He was a personal slave, a fact that turned his insides to icewater. He would still be treated as such, at least in public. Other palace denizens would certainly treat him poorly. But... in private, he may very well be treated decently. Here he was, taking a hot bath!

And the very fact that he was wondering if this could be an acceptable situation was almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. Tony again tried to blank his mind, and when that proved impossible, he finally rinsed off and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel, not even bothering to wonder if he was supposed to our not.

He tied his loincloth back on and returned to the main bedroom. Bathing was the only activity Loki had explicitly allowed, leaving Tony at a loss of what to do. He would have to ask permission to read books or something when he was alone, a thought that made him bristle.

And so Tony again simply waited for his new master to return, forcing unpleasant thoughts away by running through equations, plotting new weapons he wasn't going to actually make and sketching out blueprints in his head. It was preferable to going mad.

As the sky beyond the window dimmed with twilight, Tony turned to the clock, remembering one other nightly task. Would the prince want him in that fashion? Lust could always win out over lack of desire for a slave.

He would find out. Tony stepped out of his loincloth and pushed past the curtains that enclosed the bed. As he slid into the soft covers, he wondered how anybody could sleep on something so plush. The sheets were silky and he thought he might fall out. Maybe the carpet _would_ be the better place to sleep...

Despite the over-softness, Tony soon found himself on the brink of slumber, and was dozing when the door was flung open, jerking him back to alertness. Soft footsteps padded into the room, then paused for several long moments.

"You were supposed to remain here..." the prince's voice muttered.

"I'm here," Tony said. "Master."

The curtains were pulled back, and Loki gave the man in his bed a curious look.

"One of my duties," Tony said. "Slaves are to present themselves in their master's bed at this time each night, whether the master wants them or not. If not, the master just sends them away..."

"Well I do not," Loki said stiffly.

Tony was only too glad to slide out of bed. He made himself comfortable on the floor, keeping his head lowered but unable to help himself from risking peeks at his master as he prepared for bed. A Jotun who was so small, so human in features, was a rare sight. The lithe sapphire blue limbs that emerged as leather and silk were discarded were so unlike the regular big bulky Frost Giants.

Then Loki's eyes met Tony's, and he lowered his gaze back to the floor.

No other words were spoken that night, and Tony was still at a loss regarding his new master. He curled up on the soft carpet, soon drifting back toward sleep, wishing he had the slightest idea what to expect.


	4. Chapter 4

They fell into a strange, quiet routine in the days that followed. Few words were exchanged between master and slave, and they did not even see each other very often. Loki left in the morning to do... whatever it was he did during the day, and Tony remained behind in the bedroom. He spent most of his time reading, once he had permission to peruse the bookshelves. Every couple days some of the palace slaves would show up to tidy the room, and Tony would help them. Not much conversation happened during those occasions, either, every slave keeping to his and herself as they worked. And at the usual time each evening, Tony slipped naked into the bed as he had been instructed, waiting for his master. Also at the usual time each evening, Loki would return, and shoo his slave to the floor.

At least a week passed like that. It was a dull but quiet existence, and that was certainly not the worst thing that could befall a slave. Tony had begun resigning himself to this life, but he should have known it wouldn't last. He was in the middle of plucking a book from its shelf when the door slammed open. He jerked in surprise, bumping into the bookshelf and spending the next moments trying to stabilize it.

"Master?" Tony turned to watch a scowling Loki grabbing a leash. This was the first time he had returned in the middle of the day, what had happened? He strode closer and connected the leash to Tony's collar. Tony swallowed, but didn't dare question the prince.

"There are some... who wish to see you," Loki said, his otherwise calm voice throbbing with an underlying fury. "Some who think I should show off my new slave, and keep you with me as most masters do."

"Oh." Great. Tony took a deep breath, firmly reminding himself that nobody was going to harm their prince's slave. Loki would keep him close.

"I will have to be cold," Loki warned.

As opposed to the barrel of warmth he usually was? "I know."

"And punish you if you step out of line."

"I won't."

"Good."

And with that, they left the safety of the room behind. Being removed from his quiet little haven, back into the halls of leering Jotuns, left Tony feeling instantly vulnerable, exposed. But Loki walked quickly, forcing Tony to almost jog to avoid being strangled, so nobody's gaze could linger. Unfortunately, every once in a while an important-looking Jotun was able to convince Loki to stop, and would rake eyes over Tony. They touched him, his hair or skin or arc reactor, with their chilly hands that Tony was very well aware could become deadly cold if they chose. Males and females alike were interested in the new slave. But they did not overstep their boundaries, and it was nothing Tony wasn't used to, so he closed his eyes and let them amuse themselves until Loki said they had to get going.

The throne room they finally arrived in was vast, a gaudy golden monstrosity dominated by an uncomfortable looking throne upon a dais. The throne was flanked by guards, and Jotuns of varying levels of importance stood around chatting. Tony couldn't help but idly wonder how many slaves had died for the room – for the entire palace – both in mining gold and building the place.

Tony had visions of himself on display, kneeling at the foot of that throne. It was almost a relief when he was instead led to a small cell located in one corner of the room, a force-field barrier keeping the handful of slaves inside.

"Prepare for a very dull afternoon," Loki murmured as he handed Tony's leash to a Jotun guarding the slave cell, then walked away. Tony felt a thrill of fear, but the Jotun was all business, barely even looking at Tony. He manipulated a panel on the wall, and the barrier shimmered away like a soap bubble. Tony was pushed unceremoniously inside with the other slaves, and the barrier sprang back up. Tony blinked in surprise as they were abruptly cut off from the throne room, still able to see clearly but their other senses blocked by the barrier; the only sound now was the other slaves' breathing.

"I guess they want to keep an eye on us without us hearing all those important secrets, huh?" he said, but none of the slaves responded. Unnerved by the silence in the busy room, Tony sat. It could be worse, he supposed. Slaves could deal with boring. At least he was protected from Frost Giants.

His eyes automatically sought out his master, who had already made his way to his spot on the throne. Loki looked every inch the prince as he lounged on the uncomfortable-looking seat, gazing at the other Jotuns with polite disdain. Tony wasn't entirely sure who they all were – palace denizens, visiting dignitaries, regular citizens, maybe all of the above. Whoever they were, as time passed and they approached him one by one, it quickly became apparent they all had some issue, request or complaint for their prince to deal with. Was that what he did during his afternoon sessions?

"Everyone's talking about you," a slave girl in a shapeless short dress said. Not wanting to seem impolite, Tony tore his eyes away from his master and glanced over at her. It was the first sound any of the slaves had made.

"They are?" he said.

The girl nodded, her expression never changing from the weary, lifeless look typical of slaves. "The famous Tony Stark finally taken as a slave? It's caused a lot of... despair."

"Oh." Tony kept his expression neutral. He wasn't going to tell her that his time as a slave hadn't actually been that bad. Why offer false hope to others?

She didn't seem interested in further conversation, so he turned his attention back to Loki, still dealing with whatever problems were being brought before him. A well-dressed Jotun was speaking earnestly, gesturing with one hand for emphasis. Loki nodded and said something in response. A robed Jotun who appeared to be one of his advisers leaned over, whispering in his ear. After a pause, Loki spoke again, and shooed the Jotun away.

The next Jotun was treated similarly. Loki presumably gave an answer, an adviser spoke quietly to him, his expression hardened and he said something else. And again with the following applicant. Was Loki not allowed to make his own decisions or something?

Tony finally lost interest in the proceedings, leaning against the wall and letting his eyes drift shut. This wasn't the worst situation, but that did not mean he didn't miss quiet days spent reading in the prince's room. He had always been glad his parents had been allowed to teach him to read. His mother he could barely remember, couldn't summon her face to his mind, but he did have memories of her reading to him. Of the few memories he possessed of her, those were the only good ones. Tony had always been a voracious reader, studying history and math and engineering on his own between lessons from his father. Of course, the most fascinating stories were those from before the war. Humans had been quite primitive, a millennium ago, but they had been free.

No matter how he tried to rest, or muse upon anything he could think of to occupy his mind, Tony's eyes were continuously drawn back to the main event. Something just felt so wrong about the whole situation. Not just the advisers helping Loki with every decision. Tony could swear he saw Frost Giants roll their eyes and smirk at each other while their prince was speaking.

"Here comes my master," a boy said, and Tony glanced his way. The Jotun that had just been led into the throne room was... well, he looked like all the others. The boy's lips quirked slightly, before his expression settled back into depressed. "I am worried for the kitchen slaves."

"Oh?" Tony again turned to the court. The Jotun was gesticulating wildly as he spoke with the prince.

"Somebody slipped fiery spices into his meal last night. It must have been them."

Tony fought the urge to chuckle at the thought. "Are they normally mischievous?" he asked, but the boy just shrugged. Conversation died again, so Tony leaned back against his wall. The Jotun did not look happy as he was ushered away, so maybe the kitchen slaves would be fine.

It was maybe an uneventful hour later when Tony was jerked out of his lull by the sight a sudden commotion. A pair of Jotuns were clearly not happy with whatever they had been told, shouting at Loki and each other. Even from afar, Tony could see how tense Loki looked, hands clenched on the throne's arms. Tension in the air was thick, and Tony looked around, wondering if this was normal. The Jotuns clearly had no respect for their prince, and Tony had no idea how he should feel about that. He did not want to feel pissed off at them, or protective of the one who _owned_ him...

"_Enough!_" Loki shouted as he sprang to his feet. One did not need to be skilled in lip-reading to understand. Tony could only stare in surprise. As soon as the words left Loki's mouth, a shockwave of green light exploded from him, knocking the arguing Jotuns off their feet, sending them crashing to the floor. It was truly surreal, watching it all happen without a sound.

Tony held his breath. Even without hearing them, he could tell the entire court had fallen into a hushed silence, while Loki seethed, obviously struggling to regain his composure.

And then he walked away, as everyone started talking at once, turning to whisper amongst themselves. The downed pair cautiously pulled themselves to their feet. Loki ignored them all, approaching the slaves. The barrier was dropped, letting in the noise of a murmuring court. The prince reached for Tony's leash.

"Come," Loki said. "We're done here."

A robed Giant approached Loki, appearing almost gleeful. "Your father wishes to speak with you."

"I'm sure he does," Loki said, not turning to him. Leash in his grip, he tugged on it until Tony stood.

"I will take your slave back to your room," another Jotun said. Oh, that would not end well. Tony held his breath again, heart pounding as he waited for the answer.

He didn't have to wait long. "I can do it just fine myself," Loki said coolly. "My father can wait. Come, slave."

Tony let out a long breath as he was tugged from the throne room. Loki's back was rigid. What had all that yelling been about, anyway? Was that a typical day, or had Tony just lucked out on witnessing a particularly nasty session?

Had Loki performed _magic_?

As they walked, the starch went out of Loki's posture, and his rapid pace slowed. "Magic is forbidden," he finally said, voice so low Tony almost missed it.

"Master?"

"For me, that is." Loki snorted. "Just me. I can only imagine my father's reaction when he first found out I was a mage, when I was young. I showed the potential for great power. But I had to learn to use it on my own."

Tony hadn't known that. But then, he hadn't known much about the prince, aside from his runt status and dislike of slaves, prior to meeting him.

"The priests are also mages, and they are attuned to my magic. If I do anything beyond the most basic of spells, they know, and report to my father." He made a gesture with his free hand, and the silver chain shimmered into gold. Tony was only given a handful of seconds to marvel; another gesture, and its original color was restored. "That is the extent of what I can do undetected."

He fell silent after that, the only lingering sign of his anger the tight grip on Tony's leash, his knuckles pale blue. Tony finally dropped his eyes for the rest of their jaunt back to familiar territory.

They were both prisoners here.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony continued to straighten the blanket, long after the bed was made. "So..." He idly fluffed a pillow. "The prince..."

The slaves paused in their work, eyeing him. Few words had ever been exchanged during their cleaning sessions. They waited politely to see if he was going to follow up his statement.

Tony cleared his throat. Fluffed another pillow. "Does nobody here like him?"

They exchanged a long, almost sad look, before returning to their tasks. Tony frowned at them, wondering what he had said wrong. Or were they not supposed to talk to him?

"No," one said, a blonde girl in the midst of dusting every surface, regardless of its dusty status. "He is not respected." She turned to him again, lips pursed. "You didn't know?"

Tony shook his head. "I still don't know much about him. I knew nothing before I came here, and nobody has really told me anything since then. He told me about his magic restriction..."

"He is here because he shames his family," said the slave busying himself putting laundry away. "Because of his appearance. He was born during the war with Asgard, so I suppose he is lucky that the war ended with this new realm his father could send him to."

The girl nodded. "Who knows what would have happened to him otherwise."

"He's been here his whole life?" Tony turned back to inspect the immaculate bed. "Alone?"

"His father had no interest in raising him, and nobody knows about his mother. The king does visit sometimes, so they see each other."

"I'm sure those are lovely meetings." Tony grimaced at the thought. Whatever Jotun nannies had been roped into raising him must have been thrilled... Hell, even slaves often had the luxury of being raised by loving parents, even if that tended to end in tragedy for one of the parties sooner rather than later.

Of course, slaves did not have the luxury of a palace to live in, all the food they could want, slaves to do everything for them...

"None of the Jotuns respect him at all," the man said. "They only humor him because to do otherwise would anger the king. He may hate his son, but it's still _his son_. He's been given only a facade of power."

Tony felt a wave of disgust at himself for starting to soften toward his master, just for being alone and disliked. He never had to wonder where his next meal was coming from, when the next time somebody was going to bend him over the nearest piece of furniture and use him for their pleasure, when somebody he cared for was going to be taken away forever... Being alone was nothing.

Even if it was being alone for a really, really long time. What was he... a thousand years old? It was an unfathomable amount of time to be alive to a mortal mind. That was a _long_ time to spend without any friends. How had he not snapped?

Tony shook himself, lips drawing downward. How ridiculous. He didn't feel _anything_ for the prince. Done with cleaning, he grabbed a book from the shelf and flopped onto the floor, ignoring the other slaves as they finished with their cleaning. He quickly became engrossed in the words, not even noticing when he was left alone, door closing too softly to draw his attention.

Tony was glad Loki had not been encouraged to include him in any more court sessions ever since his little... magical tantrum. Just the thought of spending every day in that little sound-proof cell made him cringe. And so once again Tony was spending his days in relative peace, reading or cleaning, waiting for his master to return in the evenings.

Why couldn't he continue with his old life? Why didn't anybody want weapons built? His were the best, he knew they were. Knew that first-hand. Maybe enough time spent with sub-par missiles would remind the Jotuns how much they needed Tony's skills, how much he was being wasted as the personal slave of a prince with no interest in a slave. They were just doing this to piss Loki off. When the novelty wore off, they'd come for Tony...

"You are quite literate for a slave."

Tony jerked the book away in surprise, to see Loki standing in the doorway watching him. He whipped his head around to look at the clock, and mentally swore. He was supposed to be in bed five minutes ago. Tony scrambled for the bed, but Loki held out a hand to stop him.

"You needn't bother."

Tony sagged back down with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Master." Loki waved his concern away. "My parents taught me," he added, since Loki had sort of inquired. "Storytime is one of my few memories of my mother; she was taken away when I was young."

"Ah," Loki said, face unreadable. "And your father was Howard Stark. Of course they would leave him be to teach you all he knew." Tony nodded his agreement. "I remember when he died, though I don't recall how."

"He was injured defending me." Tony stared down at the book, at the illustration on the current page. "I was a teenager. A Frost Giant tried to rape me right in front of him, so he tried to stop it, and was... grabbed." Tony lifted a hand, waggled his fingers. "You know, frozen. He ended up losing all the fingers on his right hand. I was so relieved it wasn't worse than that, but... they didn't have much use for him after that. Once they decided I was sufficiently trained and could work on my own, he was killed."

Tony idly flipped a page. He ran his fingers over the next picture, a photo of golden treasures that would look at home right in their palace. "Look at that," he murmured. "All that gold. Sometimes humans and Jotuns aren't so different..."

"What are you reading?" Loki asked from another part of the room, where he was undressing for bed. Tony looked back down at his book, though as usual his eyes kept drifting back toward his master as articles of clothing were discarded. The beautiful Jotun would never not be fascinating to look at, with his long legs and round... no no. Tony really needed to not think about the prince's ass. Really, he couldn't do anything with it even if they had a normal sexual master-slave relationship. There was a specific set of rules regarding what was acceptable between Jotuns and humans, and anything that gave the human dominance was not allowed. Fucking a male Frost Giant in the ass was definitely illegal, with _both_ parties, slave and master, punished severely if they were caught. Definitely not worth it.

Tony shook himself and tried to recall the question. "Ancient Egypt." He held the book up.

"Ah." Loki spared the book a brief glance before returning to the task at hand. "Humans had some interesting cultures."

"A lot of them kept slaves..." Tony shuddered. He couldn't imagine humans keeping other humans as slaves; the thought was horrific. "But I still like reading about... before. You know, before... you guys."

"Mm. Have you read about old Norse culture?"

This, Tony realized, had to have been the longest conversation between them. "No."

Loki had disappeared behind the curtains, but Tony could hear the bed lightly creaking as he lay down. "I would be surprised if you had, it is not a popular one among my people." He chuckled. "There were humans in Europe who believed Asgardians were their gods."

"Really?" And then it occurred to Tony how long they had been talking since the last time he had said 'master'. He winced.

"Oh yes. I imagine seeing their 'gods' soundly defeated took care of that particular worship." Another chuckle. Well, no matter his thoughts on his own species, hatred of Asgardians was pretty universal among Jotuns.

"I wonder if the stories about them were as weird as some of these." Tony held his book up, even if Loki couldn't see. "Egyptian mythology is strange."

"What else have you been reading?"

"Um." Tony's eyes flicked to the stack of books he had browsed through the last few days. "Whatever I can find. Master." He winced again, because that probably sounded like a smartass answer. "Fiction isn't my favorite, but I've read some anyway. And a lot of history. I'm still on the lookout for science."

"Mm." And that, apparently, was that. Loki did not speak further on the subject, and soon his breathing evened out and deepened. Tony shoved his book aside and curled up on his spot on the floor, feeling puzzled. What had _that_ been about? Since when did Loki have even the slightest interest in what Tony did? _I read because what else am I going to do? Not a whole lot of hobby options in here._ He let out a sigh. Even his sarcastic thoughts were losing their edge. Why couldn't Loki be easier to hate?

* * *

><p>The days continued to drag by, until Tony was startled by an appearance of his master while the sun was still high. His stomach clenched and the temperature seemed to drop as he anticipated another trip to the throne room, but instead of a leash, Loki was holding a stack of books. Tony sagged slightly in relief, though he was still thoroughly confused.<p>

"These texts are not meant for human eyes." Loki set the books down on a shelf, dissolving Tony's bafflement in a wave of curiosity. "Just like old Norse mythology, Jotuns are hoping the Uprising is forgotten one day."

Oh. Intrigued, Tony eyed the thick spines, wondering who had even written those. "But that was less than a century ago. Even if most of the humans from that time are dead by now, it's too soon to forget."

"Of course. But they hope. History repeats itself, as they say."

Tony well knew the Uprising, a great war from about seventy years ago. His father, after all, had lived through it, and had thoroughly ignored any rules to not speak of it. It had, as the name suggested, been a war where humans rose against their Jotun masters and attempted to fight back. It went about as well as could be expected, but the humans made a valiant effort. When all looked lost, a brilliant man had managed to invent a serum that could turn a human into a superhuman, almost as strong as a Jotun! But the serum was only successfully used once before it was discovered and destroyed, along with its inventor. A single superhuman wasn't enough to win the war, but he did foster hope, and many mortals followed his lead. He became a symbol.

Of course, he and the rest of the human soldiers were wiped out and the war lost.

And ever since, humans and Jotuns alike had grown interested in recreating that serum, with mixed results. Usually bad.

"Why?" Tony finally said.

Loki had moved to the mirror, checking his appearance before presumably having to return to his phony duties. "Why what? Does history repeat itself?"

Tony shook his head, selecting one of the new books. "Why did you bring these?"

Loki glanced over his shoulder at Tony, smirking slightly. "Perhaps because you are bored in here," he said lightly. "Perhaps because bringing you forbidden tomes would infuriate everyone."

Just so long as Tony wasn't the one punished... "Thank you, Master," he said with a polite bow. He hesitated, tracing a finger along the book's spine. "Is everything well?" He tacked on another "master" to soften the blow of his bold question.

"Oh, _fine_." Whatever playful mood Loki had been in dissipated like smoke. He combed long blue fingers through his hair, far more severely than necessary. "It is a splendid day, surrounded by loved ones."

Tony watched him go with very mixed feelings, lips pursed. He really wished he could just hate his master.


	6. Chapter 6

It was that time again. Tony had lost track of how many times he had slid naked into bed, only to be sent to the floor once Loki arrived. It was a routine he doubted either of them really noticed anymore. He lay back and waited, arms folded behind his head; he stared at the ceiling in the dim light, eyes idly tracing over the patterns. He had lost all track of time, had no idea how long he had been living in the palace, his life as an inventor and weapon developer behind him. The days all bled together, spent cleaning or reading or occasionally being taken out with his master to keep up appearances. Only rarely did he have to attend courtly functions, but fortunately they had just been dull since the first one, spent sitting behind the soundproof barrier, watching his master pretend to have authority.

The door opened at the usual time, followed by footfalls, clothing removed, curtains gently pulled aside. Loki slid into bed, gesturing for Tony to get down.

He didn't. Tony sat up, on the verge of rolling off as usual, but he hesitated. He stared down at the fan of black hair, camouflaged on the black pillow. "I don't have to, you know, Master."

Loki rolled over to peer up at Tony, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry?"

"Leave." Tony was not normally one for feeling awkward or embarrassed, but now he toyed at an invisible thread on the blanket. "I don't have to get down. I mean, I'm here for... if you want... it is... um."

Loki slowly sat up, eyeing Tony curiously. He studied him for a long moment, before his expression morphed into something ugly, something dangerous. "Get down."

Tony scrambled toward the foot of the bed, heart in his throat. "Master?" Never had Loki's anger been directed at _him_.

"Get down!" His eyes flashed. "If you are not on the floor in two seconds, I will send you to sleep in the guards' barracks."

Tony hurtled himself off the bed, tangling himself in the blanket on the way in his haste. His throat had constricted, he couldn't breathe. What had he _done_? Suggested he be used as a slave was intended to be used! He knew Loki did not like slavery, but... would it really be so bad, if he knew Tony was okay with it? Tony was frozen on the floor, wondering what to do, wondering if he should apologize or keep his mouth shut. He looked back up, immediately wishing he hadn't, for that furious glare was still fixed on him.

"Do you really think," Loki said, voice deadly quiet, "that I need a slave's pity?"

Tony gaped at him. Oh. "I..."

"Do you?" he snarled.

"No!" Tony shook his head wildly. "I don't pity you."

Loki bared his teeth. "You would lie to me?"

"I'm not lying. I don't pity you!" Tony spread his arms. "I have lived my entire life surrounded by abject misery. Do you really think I have any pity left in me? Do you think I feel sorry for you after what I've seen?" Loki did not answer, but the worst of the fire seemed to leave him. "No, I..." He what? What had he been feeling ever since he realized the prince's situation? "Well, you've become one of us instead of one of them." Loki's expression did not change. "And... well, and respect."

"Respect," Loki repeated flatly.

Tony nodded, a little surprised, himself. He realized it was true as he said it. "You've... you've been in this shitty situation for _centuries_. Humans can't even wrap our minds around that amount of time. I don't know how you've put up with this for so long without snapping. You're... strong." The anger drained a little more, though Loki still looked doubtful. "And... you're surrounded by a planet-full of people it's considered perfectly okay to abuse. It would be unusual for someone in your situation to _not _take advantage of that and take his anger out on the slave race. And you don't! You hate slavery and don't mistreat us. Why? You've been given no reason to show kindness to anyone. How do you even stay sane?"

Loki actually chuckled at that, expression softening further. "Who said I was?" he murmured. Assuming that to be a joke, Tony smiled. "I find ways to keep myself entertained," Loki added, which fired Tony's curiosity but he did not elaborate. "But you, I could say the same about you." Tony tilted his head. "You are strong. You do not give up, as many slaves do."

Tony lay his head down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. The danger seemed to have passed, at least. "When I was first taken from my home and told I was going to be somebody's slave, one of my first thoughts was that at least personal slaves don't usually live long."

"Thoughts and actions are not the same," Loki said with a shrug. "I still see a defiance in your eyes that has been burned out of most humans. I can practically read your thoughts as you mentally berate those around you. You have tried to escape in the past, something few mortals have survived." He gestured toward Tony, presumably toward his chest. "You were captured, and you fought your way free."

"Well, yes." Tony blinked, sitting up straight as realization dawned. "You were raised by slaves."

Baffled by the abrupt change in topic, Loki opened his mouth as if to respond, but nothing came out. He just stared at Tony.

"No, no, it makes sense now. I guess I always assumed some Jotun women were forced to raise you. But no, slaves had to do it." Loki continued to just watch, mask fallen back into place leaving his expression unreadable. "No wonder you're nicer to us. You really _are_ like one of us." Deciding to be bold, he lifted himself up from the floor, onto the foot of the bed. "That had to be a bitch, though."

Loki shook himself slightly. "What?"

"Your nannies aging and dying, one after another, while you were still a kid."

Long moments passed; Tony didn't think Loki was going to respond. He did not, however, believe that his assumption had been mistaken. Finally, Loki said in a soft voice, "I suppose. But I got used to it."

Tony nodded. "Then you outgrew nannies entirely, and refused to take a slave of your own." His mind was overloading with mental images. First generation slaves, still remembering being free, being subjugated by invaders, suddenly given an enemy infant to care for. What did they think of him? Was raising the prince considered a horrible fate, or a halfway decent one compared to what else might have awaited them?

"Did you ever have a human lover?" Tony asked, then wondered where _that_ thought had come from.

Loki, thankfully not offended, shook his head. "Never."

Tony hesitated, then made a brief motion toward himself. "Because you can-"

Loki cut him off with a gesture. "I will keep that in mind. I think this might be the first time a slave has granted his master permission to sleep with him..."

"Sorry, Master," Tony said quickly. But Loki, of course, did not look angry. It still felt strange, belonging to a master that meant him no harm. If he starting thinking of Loki as a friend, then he would really be in danger of speaking too casually, too inappropriately. He had seen, just moments earlier, how truly terrifying it was to have Loki's anger directed at him. He could only hope it didn't happen again.

"I imagine you have had human lovers," Loki said.

It was such a casual comment, mentioned in passing as one might talk about the weather, but still it hit like a blow. Tony shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to fend off the memories that threatened to take root in his mind again. "Yes, Master," he said, voice low. "Several. One that I loved."

"You were taken from your lover?"

"She was taken from me, years ago."

There wasn't much to say after that, silence falling over the room. Tony was grateful no further questions were asked. Really, what did Loki expect? Humans did not get happy endings. They all knew when they fell in love that it would end in tragedy at some point, but they allowed it anyway. Because they were... well, human. Those who chose to avoid the inevitable heartbreak and avoid any sort of bond with other humans did not fair much better in Tony's experience.

Loki yawned, then, rubbing a hand through his hair. "You can remain there if you wish," he said, before settling back down in his pillow.

Tony pursed his lips as he stared at his master, watching Loki's breath evening as sleep claimed him. Now where had_ that_ bit of generosity come from? Feeling sorry for Tony? Great... Or maybe it was related to their moment of mutual respect. That had to be it. Tony didn't want his pity any more than Loki did.

He curled up on the foot of the bed, like the pet he basically was. To keep from dwelling on the past, Tony instead focused on the future, wondering what would happen now that they seemed to have an odd sort of friendship blooming, until he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>Tony's stomach clenched as the hated leash was clipped to his collar. They had only recently awakened and dressed – or, rather, Loki had dressed. Where could they possibly be going? It was far too early for courtly matters, wasn't it?<p>

"You will join me for breakfast," Loki said, sounding weary.

Ah. "Yes, Master." While he was still filled with the unpleasant icy ball of dread he normally felt at being taken out of his safe haven, his curiosity was kindled. What did royalty eat? Tony just ate what was delivered to him by other slaves, usually scraps and leftovers. Better scraps than he had eaten in his previous life, but still nothing wondrous. His mind filled with images of heaping platters of food he had only ever dreamed about.

Loki snorted. "You're drooling." He gripped the leash with a sigh. "It is not going to be as magnificent as you are imagining."

"Is there food?"

"Yes. And plenty of my unruly countrymen."

"But there's food."

And so Tony was not nearly as paranoid as he usually was while being led through the halls, able to ignore the leers and chuckled comments. They took a different route than Tony was used to, though the blue, green and gold décor was much the same. Occasionally he saw a tapestry he wouldn't mind stopping to get a closer look at, or paintings of Jotuns who all looked basically the same. Except for the stern, scarred face of their king, a painting Loki noticeably hurried past.

Their destination was a vast, ornate room dominated by three tables that ran nearly the entire length of the space. The arched ceiling was covered with ornate molding, a few chandeliers hanging from it. More paintings lined the walls, and a large tapestry covered the far wall.

And the tables – already occupied by Jotuns, many of whom had slaves seated at their feat – were loaded with food. Meats, cheeses, fruit, bread, pastries, more food than Tony had probably seen in his lifetime. He tried to see if the slaves on the floor were allowed to eat anything or not. Likely not, why else would Loki believe Tony would be unimpressed?

"You can say it," Loki murmured as Tony gazed around.

"Holy shit."

"Not what I was thinking, but that works." Loki led him further into the room. He schooled his features into a cool mask, Tony noticed when Loki glanced to the side, so he did the same. Their usual careful emotionless attitude toward each other in public. Tony stared at the floor like a good cowed slave. And to his relief, the room's occupants were too busy eating and conversing amongst themselves to pay attention to the prince and his slave.

Loki settled regally at the head of the center table. The other slaves were seated at their masters' feet, so Tony followed suit. There were, he discovered, rings fastened along the edges of the table for their leashes. After securing Tony's leash, Loki ladled the contents of a tureen into a bowl, which he handed to Tony with a curt "Eat that." Tony sniffed at the contents and wrinkled his nose, hoping nobody was watching. An unimaginable feast mere feet away, and Tony was stuck with porridge. He set the bowl on his lap, trying to tune out the sounds of silverware scraping on plates, friendly chatter and laughter, happy chewing. The slaves ate in silence at their masters' feet. Tony glanced at them while pretending to study his bowl. Most were eating the same bland glop, though one or two might have had bread crusts. None displayed emotion.

Loki, it was hard not to notice, also ate in relative silence. He sat straight-backed in his chair, nibbling on fruit Tony couldn't even name. While the other Jotuns chatted in a friendly fashion, Loki was unsurprisingly ignored. He wasn't sure why he did it, but Tony leaned against Loki's leg, unable to show any more support than that. In return, Loki nudged him with his leg.

Tony was nearly finished with his porridge when the nearest Jotun reached for the bowl of fruit, selecting an apple and knocking a few other pieces out. They rolled to a stop on the table, one enticingly close to Tony. It was another apple, of a blushing pink color he hadn't seen before. His eyes flicked around, noticing the complete lack of anybody paying attention to him. A quick movement, disguised as a stretch, and the apple fell to the floor.

Well. It was no good anymore. It would just be thrown away. Tony scooped the apple up, furtive glances assuring him he remained unnoticed. He took a quick bite.

A small moan escaped, as did a bit of juice. That was the best thing Tony had tasted in at least a decade. Once, years earlier, a particularly well-paying job had left him with a little extra money to buy a few small luxuries. Now he regretted buying sweets instead of fruit.

Two more bites was all he was afforded before an icy hand – cold enough to be painful, but not quite enough to burn – snatched his arm. Tony swallowed his mouthful, looking up into furious red eyes.

"Where did you get that?" the Jotun asked, voice as cold as his skin.

"It rolled off," Tony said, very aware of how many eyes were now on him. The sounds of merriment and eating had faded.

The Jotun released Tony, turning his gaze to Loki with a smirk. "Your slave does not think you feed him well enough, prince."

"Apparently not." Loki stood from his chair, scowling down at his slave. "You are a thief now? And here I thought you were smarter than that." Sometimes, it was hard to tell when Loki was pretending. Tony closed his eyes, waiting for the tongue-lashing that was to follow before being dragged back to his master's room. The usual act Loki put on in public. Maybe he was secretly pleased with his slave's defiance again.

Tony grunted at the sudden pain that flared from his back. His eyes snapped open and he whipped his head around, greeted by the sight of Loki wielding a crop. So not a tongue-lashing then... Other Giants were gathered around, watching gleefully. Tony turned back around and let his eyes close again, bracing himself. He clenched his fists and breathed deeply as the fiery strikes landed on his back. They were not as hard as they easily could have been, and he had an idea Loki was making a great show of looking like he was bringing the crop down with all his strength.

Tony counted the lashes. It was an old habit. They stopped at a mere twelve.

"Your slave is a troublemaker," a Jotun said, though he sounded more amused than outraged. Tony just sat, unmoving, breathing deeply. His back throbbed, but it was manageable.

Another chimed in with agreement. "I wouldn't be surprised if he were the one behind my white laundry coming back pink." Tony had no idea what he was talking about, and shuddered at the thought of being framed for anything.

"Don't be ridiculous, he's not a laundry slave. And you know he is in my room most of the time." Without another word, Loki yanked Tony's leash from its ring and stalked back to his room. The marks on Tony's back elicited more amused chatter as they passed through the halls. More gossip. He didn't care. They could say what they wanted, as long as it wasn't blaming him for crimes he did not commit. At least the apple theft had genuinely been his own fault.

"Why did you do that?" Loki said once they were safely in his room. His voice was cool, expression unreadable as ever. Which probably meant he wasn't too angry.

"It fell on the floor, Master," Tony said. Not making excuses, just explaining. And conveniently leaving out the part where he had been the one to knock it to the floor. "It'd have just been thrown away. And it looked good." He shrugged. "Tasted good, too."

"I hope it did."

"I'm sorry, Master."

Loki snorted. "Sorry you got caught."

"I'm sorry you had to punish me. What's that saying? 'This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you', right?" Tony shrugged again, fresh welts tugging. "I've had worse."

"Well do not make me have to punish you again. Or else I will _really_ punish you." Loki pointed imperiously at a stack of books. "Read something." Instead of returning out to his duties, Loki made his way toward the bathroom while Tony followed him with his eyes. "It is not so bad, perhaps. If they thought for a moment that I liked my slave in any way, they would relish taking you away."

"Probably." Tony selected a book his master had brought him, smiling. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh, I think I can manage." Loki disappeared into the bathroom, and Tony settled back to read. He should probably feel worse about a beating from his master, but the lingering pain was nothing, and the nagging guilt that Loki must have hated it was all that continued to plague him. And Loki was right. Physically punishing his slave would convince the other Jotuns that all was as it should be between master and slave. If this did not work out, Tony had his doubts he would just be returned to his weapon designing life. And so, as he read another book about the Uprising, back stinging, the morning breakfast ruined, Tony found himself in a strangely light mood.


	7. Chapter 7

He did not have anywhere he needed to be, by some miracle. Breakfast was over, court was later in the afternoon, and for the moment he was free. He toyed with the idea of paying his slave a visit, of having somebody halfway decent to talk to, but decided against it. They would see each other that night, as usual, and he did not feel like moving from his spot. So Loki remained on the garden bench, book in hand.

The neatly trimmed, dew-kissed garden grounds were being tended to by a couple of sun-browned slaves. Topiaries, hedges and flowers had to look _just so_, apparently. Even Loki wasn't entirely sure who was in charge of official Garden Plant Size, but somebody had to be. The slaves kept sending nervous glances his way, despite Loki's complete lack of interest in them, or even movement. He ignored them and flipped the page, lulled into a sense of peace by the gurgle of the fountain. It was a nice fountain, water pouring from a jug held by an attractive mermaid. Prior to its construction a few centuries ago, Loki had voted in favor of a merman with his own face, but had been overruled, just as he had been regarding any other statue of himself.

Tony enjoyed reading about history; the human cultures before their enslavement, and all that had occurred since. It seemed like a depressing topic for a human to wish to study, but Tony seemed to take pleasure in any form of knowledge. Loki agreed, but occasionally he relished the escape fiction held. Currently he was reading a tale of two Jotun adventurers discovering the ruins of an ancient human civilization, escaping traps and finding treasures. Just a silly adventure story for a caged prince.

Technically, Loki was not trapped in the palace. He was free to roam as he pleased, to different parts of the country or the other side of the planet if he so chose. He did not, however, relish the intense scrutiny he would be under if he ever chose to do so. He would need his father's permission, and would likely have assigned escorts, would have to check in at certain times and follow a strict schedule, and so he had never bothered.

He often considered just escaping. But his father would find him – of course he would – and in the end it would not be worth it. But wasn't it nice to think about? Maybe up north, where the sky lit up like jewels. Or even someplace tropical. It would be highly uncomfortable, but it would be worth it to live in such a beautiful country where Jotuns preferred to not venture.

A pair of young Jotun women strolled out, paying their prince no mind as they talked and giggled together, sitting on the edge of the fountain. They wore the short skirts and copious amounts of jewelry that were popular among younger ladies these days. Loki idly wondered how many more necklaces it would take to topple them over, and smiled at the thought. An older man soon ventured out as well, giving the girls a disapproving frown, glancing at the working slaves, then settling down on a bench of his own. He too did not acknowledge Loki's presence.

Loki ignored them as well, turning back to his book. It never lasted. The peace gradually trickled away as more Jotuns began mingling in the garden as the morning waned. A couple even decided to have a picnic, their slave sitting nearby with the basket, handing them snacks when commanded. Well, maybe he would bring his own slave next time, order Tony to feed him grapes to keep up appearances. Which reminded Loki, he would going to have to bring _that _up with Tony soon. Neither of them would be thrilled at the slave doing chores around the palace on his own, but keeping Tony ensconced in his room was spreading rumors that needed to be nipped in the bud. It was time to send him on errands, and hope others feared Loki's wrath enough to keep their hands off. The thought of another Jotun touching his slave caused dark feelings to bubble up. Loki wasn't even sure what he thought of Tony's past lovers. Love, he had been in love; many Jotuns didn't believe humans were capable of such emotions. And his love had been taken from him. Loki wondered if he should tell Tony the same thing had happened to him once.

No, he was not going to think about the past. Or his slave. Loki was going to read and relax.

Sometimes somebody roaming the gardens would notice Loki's presence and offer a quick bow. Or the occasional smirk or leer, when they thought he wasn't looking. Regardless, his response was a smile, letting them decide for themselves if it was friendly or not.

But for the most part, he was left alone, and so Loki remained. He would head back inside when others started bothering him, or it was time for lunch, whichever came first.

"My prince?"

Oh _good._ Speak of the devil. The day would not be complete without a toadie spoiling Loki's rare moment of relaxation. He slapped the book shut, looking up with a pleasant smile. "Ragni, how delightful."

The toadie looked mildly annoyed at the barely-concealed sarcasm. Well, he was the one who had chosen to greet Loki. "Busy as ever, I see."

"I had nothing scheduled after breakfast." Loki casually crossed his legs. "I had some free time. I will see you at court after lunch. And what are you doing here?"

Ragni's eye actually twitched. "Looking for you, my prince. Lord Stigandi Tyrvason has arrived, and seeks an audience with you."

"Does he?" Loki said, smile firmly in place. "I was not notified."

"He has only just arrived." Ragni sighed, folding his arms. "But... well. Are you coming?" He looked his prince up and down with a pinched expression, taking in the flat look. "Never mind. I will let him know you will see him tomorrow."

"Good. Remind him it is impolite to just drop in." That dealt with, Loki returned to his book, hunting for the page he had last read. Ragni's shadow never left. "Yes?"

"How is everything with your slave?" A quick upward glance told him Ragni looked as smug as any Jotun did when questioning Loki about the slave they assumed was causing him misery.

"All right, I suppose." Another flip of the page. "Useful, I suppose." He gazed up at Ragni through his lashes. It was a look that he knew was anything but coquettish. "I will find good use for a slave skilled in creating weapons of mass destruction."

Ragni huffed, purple coloring his cheeks. "Enough of your jokes, Prince Loki. Your father will hear about this." He turned away in a swirl of blue robes, and Loki rolled his eyes at him.

"He thinks I'm joking," Loki mused to himself, loud enough for the toadie to overhear. It really was no wonder they needed him around to rule; nobody else had time to get anything done, they were so busy running to his father for every miniscule issue they had with him. The slightest joke sent them running for their king, in hopes of getting Loki in trouble.

Too bad it usually worked.

With a sigh, Loki returned once again to his book. His phony smile fell into an annoyed scowl. The cover had frosted over beneath his fingers.

* * *

><p>She walked through the gates of Seven Two Oh a broken thing, not even lifting her eyes to meet those of the Jotuns that had let her in. Her short dress barely covered her, yet she did not seem to notice the cold breeze that tugged at her skirt and hair. The Jotuns stared after her, leered, but they let her pass.<p>

She aimlessly made her way through the human community, passing by others that looked just as miserable, and paid her no mind. Another pathetic soul going about her pointless life, nothing out of the ordinary. She passed a child of no more than four or five eating scraps she had found in the gutter. A teen boy using a dirty rag to polish a Jotun's boots, looking hopeful. Judging by the smirk curling the Giant's lips, though, it was unlikely that food or money would be the boy's reward. A young woman all in black sat against a wall and stared lifelessly into space.

She ignored them all and kept walking, stumbling once but quickly righting herself. She finally acknowledged the cold as a particularly sharp wind tore through, wrapping her arms about herself as she approached a small building.

With a shuddering sigh, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, letting it swing shut behind her.

The meek persona dropped as soon as the door was on the latch. She stood up straight, eyes hardening, lips quirking into a smirk. "Too easy."

"Back so soon, Nat?" Clint did not bother getting up from the chair he was perched on, legs propped on the small table.

"For supposedly being the dominant race, Frost Giants are ridiculously easy to fool." Natasha rubbed at her limbs, trying to wipe away any trace of paint. Her blend came off much easier than the stain used on real personal slaves, but she still hated its presence.

"So what did you learn?"

"Oh, I know where he's being held now."

A grin spread across Clint's face. "With him on our side, we'll be unstoppable."

"I'm sure that's what they thought the first time." Natasha strode over to the icebox to see if it held anything worth eating. She peered inside, eyes widening as they landed on a small dish. "Where did you get _butter_?"

"Phil brought it by!"

"Where did _he_ get it?" She tugged the dish out, closing the icebox with her foot as she reached for the remainder of their bread with her other hand.

"Didn't ask. You know them..."

"I'm impressed you waited for me." She sat down across from Clint, eyeing his feet until he removed them from the table.

Clint eagerly grabbed his slice of bread once Natasha had slathered some butter on it. "Cheers." He tapped the slice against hers. "Joining the resistance group has its perks."

"I infiltrate Jotun households while you eat?"

"I waited this time," Clint grumbled around a mouthful.

Natasha gave him a small smile. "I'll inform them tomorrow, and we'll come up with a plan from there to free him."

"Looking forward to it." Clint leaned back in his seat with a grin. "Can you imagine how Phil's gonna freak out?"

She hummed a response, already working out a plan in her head. It would not be as easy as their rescue of Bruce, she was certain. He was a failure in the Jotuns' eyes, their experiments on him to recreate a super soldier serum backfiring spectacularly. But somebody who could transform into a large monster sounded useful to the resistance group, and so in went Natasha to smuggle him out.

It had backfired on them as well, after they discovered the slave collar nobody could figure out how to remove, that prevented his transformation. Jotun mages had aided in its creation, Bruce had explained. And so they had gained a brilliant scientist, but not a super-strong monster.

The next logical choice had been Tony Stark, a man who had long been on their list of people to welcome to their cause. If any human could figure out that collar, it would be him, and create weapons for them on top of that. And that was when they had discovered he had not only been taken away as a personal slave, but to the one place it would not be possible to infiltrate. They had waited too long to approach the one person they had assumed safe from slavery.

But now they knew that _the_ super soldier, Steve Rogers himself, was alive. The serum apparently helping him survive in cryostasis within the Jotun ice that had killed all of his soldier comrades in the Uprising. Presumably being experimented on, to see if the serum could be extracted from his blood. He would make a _fine_ addition to their cause.

And yes. Phil would freak out.

"So did he have anything interesting to say?" Natasha asked. "Or was he just the dairy delivery man?"

Clint snorted, reaching for a cup of water. "Nothing too exciting. They still aren't sure what our organization should be called..."

"Are they still debating that?" Natasha rolled her eyes. They were plotting the downfall of their millenia-long captors, and the men in charge were still concerned about a name.

"Last I heard it was the Slavery and Human International... something something."

"Well they can have fun working on that." Natasha stood. She had a super soldier to plan a rescue mission for. "I have work to do."


	8. Chapter 8

It was nerve-wracking, wandering the palace alone. Despite the urge to stop and inspect every expensive piece of décor, Tony walked quickly, with purpose, like his master would just kill him if he did not accomplish his current task immediately. So far nobody had tried to approach him, and he wished to keep it that way.

His first day of chores around the palace wasn't anything particularly difficult. Do some cleaning in the throne room. Fetch clothes from the laundry. Bring some lunch back from the kitchens. And hopefully that would be enough to satisfy everyone that Tony was a good little slave. For today.

It was far from Tony's first visit to the throne room, but it was the first time he had seen it when not in use. No chaos, no angry Jotuns, no sound-proof cell. Just a handful of slaves tidying up, and a pair of guards at the door who paid them little mind. Tony had heard that the king spent most of his time in the throne room back on their homeworld; Loki had gotten off easy if that were the case. Who wanted to spend all day sitting on a throne? At least the prince had some downtime to spend in his study or room.

The other slaves were new faces, leaving Tony to wonder just how many palace slaves there were. Or were they, like Tony, personal slaves sent to perform various tasks? It seemed likely, given how attractive they were. One of the women's hair – naturally blonde, judging by her eyebrows and lashes – had been dyed pale pink. Jotuns were fascinated by human hair colors, since their women (and the occasional male that grew hair) only ever had black that dye would not touch.

As usual, they said nothing to each other. Particularly with the guards standing within earshot at the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed them stealing glances his way frequently, and quickly looking away if they suspected he noticed. Well, life would have been a lot easier and more anonymous without the reactor. His face was known, but not nearly as much as _that._ If humans were allowed the quality of healthcare as their masters, he could have had it removed long ago... But of course, he was lucky to have received as much as he did, and by all rights should be dead of his own missile. He couldn't really complain.

Tony hunkered down to attack the dust bunnies under the throne itself. A job probably better suited to a smaller female or child, but nobody else was volunteering, so there he was. Let the other slaves have a nice view of his barely-covered butt. He wrinkled his nose as he stretched out with his little broom, brushing out all of the accumulated debris into a bin.

Next were lamps. There were plenty to keep the vast room lit, and they all needed a good cleaning. Some of them could probably use a polish, but Tony did not have any and wasn't really about to volunteer for extra work. A damp cloth would do.

He had not even noticed one of the other slaves move closer until a soft voice said, "Who makes weapons for them now?"

Tony glanced over his shoulder at the pink-haired girl. She was holding out a fresh cloth for him, which he accepted, discarding his dirty one. "I don't know. There was another weapon designer I knew of, but he wasn't very good..." It would serve the Jotuns right, though. Tony occasionally entertained the thought of war breaking out, and all of the Frost Giants firing duds at each other. They would have to break out the swords and go medieval on each other.

The girl smiled at him, and Tony realized he had been smiling at his own imagination. She opened her mouth to say something else, but one of the guards finally noticed their fraternizing and barked at them to get back to work.

They finished the rest of their cleaning in perfect silence, until it was finally time for Tony to move on to his next chore. Pick up clean laundry. He sought his memory for Loki's directions, and left the throne room behind, hurrying on, avoiding others.

As he made his way to the laundry, Tony actually passed his master in the hall. They were not alone, so he merely kept his eyes on the floor as he hurried past. In his peripheral, he could see the cold look Loki shot him, which sent the nearby Jotuns into fits of chuckling. Tony smiled inwardly as he quickened his pace.

"Better hurry, little slave," one shouted after him. Tony recognized his master's voice joining the laughter that was fading behind him. He briefly wondered what Loki was up to as he reached the door leading to his destination.

He did not linger in the steamy laundry room. It was yet another case of Jotuns favoring the old fashioned way over machines, damp slaves stirring clothing around in vast tubs of hot water. Tony fetched a basket, sweat already trickling down his face, and maneuvered around the laundry slaves as he retrieved articles of clothing tagged as belonging to them. To Loki, anyway, aside from the few pathetic scraps that belonged to Tony. It did not take long and his basket was soon filled with black and green and it was time to go. He ignored the argument that had broken out between a couple slaves, while one of them at the door inspected Tony's laundry to make sure he was only taking what belonged to them.

His last stop was the kitchens. Tony eagerly left the unpleasantly hot and noisy room behind, feeling grateful he had not been assigned there.

It could always be worse. That was the mantra that kept slaves sane. It could always be _worse_.

He shifted the basket on his hip as he returned to the sunlight dappled halls. After a gloomy week, it was nice to see the sun's return. The Jotuns felt the opposite, of course, but no human pitied them when they complained about the warmth. Loki never complained, which just led Tony to further speculate on his parentage, whether he was fully Jotun or not. They could not interbreed with humans, thankfully, so perhaps one of the other races? That line of thinking led to all sorts of unpleasantness. Like... where had Loki's mother been when the hated baby was sent off to another planet to hide him? If he had been unwanted, why let the pregnancy run its course? If she truly had been of Vanaheim or Asgard or wherever, Laufey must have known the child would not look fully Jotun before he was born. So perhaps Loki wasn't a half-breed and really was just a runt after all...

Why had Tony started thinking of Loki again? He shook his head, banishing the thoughts.

Tony was mostly alone for the time being, so he took his time, inspecting the décor that always piqued his curiosity when he hurried (or was hurried) past. He stepped closer to a painting, finding the pale pastel colors pleasing. It showed a field of flowers beneath a lightly clouded blue sky. Vague blue shapes danced among the swirling petals, that were apparently supposed to be abstract Jotun figures.

Nearby was a realistic statue of a young man lounging on a pillow. A _human_ man, strangely enough. He was muscular and fair of face, long hair flowing over his rugged shoulders. Tony blinked at it in surprise. "Somebody really liked their slave..." It warmed him a bit to whatever Jotun had commissioned that statue. Just a little.

"That isn't anybody's slave," a small voice said, and Tony turned to face a young slave girl also carrying a basket of laundry. She kept her eyes averted from Tony's. "Nobody would ever do that."

The bit of warmth evaporated; he should have known. Tony glanced back at the statue. "Who is it, then?"

"Nobody. It's just an attractive statue."

"Oh." How disappointing. But not really surprising, the Jotuns were not shy about lusting after the human body. "You've lived here long, then?"

"All my life."

"Ah." Tony rubbed at the back of his neck. Sure enough, the girl's eyes kept returning to his glowing chest. "Not bad, huh?"

"What?" She blinked up at him. "Oh..." She chewed on her lip, then seemed to find her backbone. "Did it hurt?"

"Quite a bit," Tony said with a shrug. Spur-of-the-moment surgery usually did. "But better than dying." It seemed that conversation was once again going to be his brief, disastrous flirting with freedom.

Rather than agreeing, the girl just made a noncommittal noise, averting her eyes again.

"I was free at the time," Tony reminded her, and her expression brightened, for a moment looking like a normal person instead of a soulless slave.

"What was it like?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Tony couldn't help but smile. "For the short time between when we escaped and when we were blown up by wild men, it was... amazing."

The other slave was still smiling when she excused herself to return to work. Tony had a sinking feeling he had just encouraged a slave to attempt escape, and was tempted to hurry after her and change her mind. Hopefully the whole _we were blown up and those of us who barely survived were dragged back and punished_ aspect of the story would keep her from doing anything stupid.

With one last glance at the statue, Tony shifted his laundry basket to his other hip and moved on. He walked to the end of hell and nudged the door open, and... was instantly aware he had made a wrong turn. Instead of leaving the laundry entirely and heading for the kitchen, he was now in what appeared to be the seamstress room. A large circle of slave women of varying ages sat in a circle, clothing in their laps that was being hemmed and repaired with simple needle and thread. As all eyes turned to him, he wondered how to make a graceful escape.

"Give them here," the woman closest to Tony said, holding a hand out. He gave her a puzzled look, before realizing what she meant.

"Oh, no..." He gave them an awkward smile. "No, laundry's fine, I think... I was just visiting." He _could_ have just handed over an article of clothing and left, he supposed. Then left them wondering where in the world the tear was and what was wrong with the supposedly brilliant man.

"Not often we get visitors," an elderly lady said, showing the young girl at her knee how to thread a needle. "Especially famous ones."

"I'm always up for visiting such a lovely group of ladies," Tony said with a small bow, and the women chuckled.

"With what you're wearing," one said, "we'd know if you were _up_ for it."

Tony snorted a laugh. "Actually, I just got lost after picking up the laundry. This is the first time my master has sent me out on my own."

"Yes, the prince..." The elderly slave handed her sewing to the trainee to try. "No human quite knows what to think of him."

"No," Tony agreed. "But he's not our enemy."

"They're all our enemy," said a red-haired woman hemming a green dress.

"What do you do after the sewing's done?" Tony wondered in an attempt to quickly change the subject from Loki.

"After?" a dark-skinned woman said with a laugh. "This is what we do."

"Oh." Well, it seemed better than being a laundry slave. And they might not receive many beatings or rapes, sitting in here most of their time. The room was not terrible, it was clean, well-lit and lined with drawers containing their supplies. There was even an old-fashioned gramophone in the corner, though it likely did not work considering how old it had to be. Not a bad place.

It could always be worse.

"So..." Tony figured he should get going. Though he only had one chore left on his list, he supposed he had time to kill. "Do you need any help with anything?"

"Can you sew?" the old one asked.

"No," Tony said. While on his own, he had either just lived with torn clothing, or took it to one of the starving young mothers he had known in exchange for food or a little money. "I learned how to build complex weapons when I was still knee-high, though, I can pick it up." He sat down beside her, setting the laundry basket aside, and took the sewing from the little girl. With an amused look, the elderly slave – who introduced herself as Gloria – picked up a spool of thread and showed him how to measure it and thread the needle. They seemed so amused and certain he would fail, he almost wanted to fumble and prick his fingers for them. But vanity won out, and Tony was soon repairing his bundle of cloth without issue.

"We might have to steal you from the prince," said a young woman. "If nothing else, an attractive man would be a nice change of scenery."

Gloria's laugh could only be described as wicked. "I don't think the prince will let his handsome bed slave be taken away to _sew_ for him."

"I'll suggest the idea of male seamstresses to him, though," Tony said. "Seamsters?"

"Nobody else is nearby to hear," said the same young woman, a twinkle in her eyes. Really, these ladies were some of the liveliest slaves Tony had met. This really didn't seem like a bad place to end up, despite the likely boredom. "Tell us what he's like."

It seemed he was not going to escape talking about Loki. "Judging by your expression, I'm going to assume you don't mean his personality," Tony said, tying off a small knot.

"Well, that too..."

Gloria handed Tony a large pair of pants and he found matching thread. He wasn't sure how much he should tell them about his strange relationship with his master. If word spread that they had grown fond of each other that would be disastrous, and he had no idea who else the seamstresses talked to. "Well I hate to disappoint you, but we've never done anything in bed besides sleep. He just doesn't like humans in that way."

"He is very pretty," one said. "If I _had_ to choose a Jotun to lie with..."

"I don't think he wants to spend all day talking about his master," said another. "Tell us about the human cities, outside the palace."

Tony grimaced. "All right, but it's not pleasant..." As he darned, he told them about his most recent home in Five Oh Two, and the other, identical human cities he had seen before. He even told them a bit about his parents, and other people he had known. By the time he finished, and they were murmuring among themselves, he figured he really should get to his next task. Tony handed the sewing back and retrieved his laundry, bid them all farewell with a bow, and resumed his search for the kitchens. His stomach was only too happy to remind him that fetching something to eat very soon would be a good idea.

The kitchen staff eyed him with suspicion, but Tony was able to load a plate of cold lunch atop his laundry basket. And to his immense relief, he made it back to their rooms with no good, he sat down to eat his flavorless slave food. And with nobody else around to notice, he occasionally swiped some bites of real food that was supposed to wait for his master, and it was delicious.

* * *

><p>A marketplace sprawled out nearby, close enough to practically still be considered palace grounds. There were larger markets out there, and indoor shopping centers, but Loki had been to none of those. The nearby market was the furthest he ventured from his home. Even that was enough to put him under constant scrutiny by the guards that patrolled the market, as if they expected him to to perform some great feat of mischief at any moment. Or just <em>anything<em> that would require a call to his father. As if it hadn't been at least three hundred years since he had caused such a ruckus in the market.

It was, at least, always filled with varied and exotic wares; a result of so many of its customers being wealthy palace denizens. One could find anything from fresh fruit to Asian spices, cats and dogs to swords and guns, children's toys to adult toys.

Loki idly browsed wares, ignoring the palace guards that trailed after him, their official job description being to keep their prince safe. There had not been an assassination attempt in quite some time; if Loki were gone, a prince with real authority would take his place ruling Midgard, and that wouldn't do. The last attempt that he was aware of had been during the Uprising, in fact. The human would-be assassin had been... well, he had been left alive, which in his situation had not been a kindness. The only mercy had been his humanity. He would be long dead by now.

It was a pleasant sunny day, which had prompted Loki's decision to venture out. After all, the hotter the weather, the fewer the number of Jotuns outdoors. The market was not overly crowded, though shoppers still milled about under their parasols, often with slaves trailing after them carrying purchases. The sun's golden rays _were_ uncomfortable, but Loki bore it without complaint.

"Those are real emeralds, my prince," the merchant of the booth that currently held Loki's attention said, smiling down at him as he inspected a pendant he had no intention of purchasing. If there was one type that showed their prince respect, it was those who wanted his money. He ignored the jeweler, picking up a few more gaudy pieces before moving on to the next booth. This one sold delicate porcelain teapots, and fancy metal pots for coffee or chocolate. He had no need of any of those, either, though he paused to inspect the intricate blue design on a teapot. Really, he had no need of anything he was looking at, and had no goal in mind for his foray into the outdoors.

The sound of pathetic crying from behind him told Loki that slaves were being brought out on display for purchase. He ignored them as well, even as the other Jotuns around him watched, with amusement or lust. Or, he grudgingly admitted to himself, disgust. Not _all_ of his people were completely heartless.

"Thinking of getting another one?" a Jotun said, smirking at Loki. "Maybe the girl on the end. You could breed her with yours!"

Without responding, Loki moved on to the next booth, not interested in gawking at the miserable slaves being paraded around nude. At least, he couldn't help but think, his slave had been hand-picked for Loki and taken straight from his home to the palace. Not displayed for auction like a horse. The sound of a hand striking flesh reached Loki's ears, followed by louder sobbing. He tuned it out, inspecting the timepieces laid out before him. Ornate wall clocks and old pocket watches sat beside newer digital or holographic clocks. Loki picked one of the old-fashioned variety up, turning it over in his hands.

"It's broken," he said with a frown.

"Well, my prince," the merchant said with the tone of voice one used when one found oneself very amusing, "you know what they say about stopped clocks."

Loki raised his eyes to the other Jotun, until the merchant averted his gaze, embarrassed. Loki set the broken watch down and moved on. And now he had an inkling of what he wished to buy.

All the while, Jotuns were clinically inspecting the group of humans up for sale. Loki did not once look back at them.

* * *

><p>All in all, the day could have gone a lot worse. In fact, it had been about as perfect as Tony could hope for. He had accomplished his chores without being molested. He had met some nice fellow slaves. Possibly convinced one to run away and get herself in serious trouble, but hey. Not his fault if she was stupid enough to take that from his story.<p>

Now he read, waiting naked in bed at the usual time for his master to return, since he had failed to show up for lunch. The book was about the Heian period, the last period in Japan before the Jotuns arrived. Loki seemed to have made it his mission to find any history book he could about human culture for his slave, from primitive cavemen to Greeks and Romans, to the natives of their own country that had been slaughtered en masse when they fiercely resisted slavery.

He marked his place and set the book aside when he heard his master return. But instead of the usual sounds of Loki undressing for bed, Tony heard the clang of metal. Curious, he emerged from the curtained bed, not bothering to retrieve his loincloth from where he had tossed it. "Master?"

Still fully dressed, Loki stood near his desk, where he had placed a lumpy bag. "I went to the market."

"Oh, is that where you were heading earlier?"

His lips curved slightly. "Yes. I made quite a few purchases."

"I'll put them away." Tony approached the desk and opened the large bag, peering inside. He froze, blinking down at its contents, then looked up at his master in disbelief. "What is this?"

Loki returned his face to perfect neutral. "I thought you might want other ways to occupy yourself than reading."

Tony picked one of the tools out of the bag, staring at it in wonder. A screwdriver. He set it aside and plucked out a hammer, a level, a blowtorch, various metal scraps... "You want me to build weapons for you?"

"No," Loki said with an amused smirk. "Whatever you want. Or whatever I may need fixed..."

"Oh." Tony hefted the hammer in his hand. It occurred to him that his master must have a lot of trust in him to just hand over something that could be used as a weapon. He swallowed against what was definitely not a lump in his throat. "Thank you, Master."

Loki nodded slightly. "Do you know what you will build first?"

He rummaged around in the bag some more, taking stock of its contents. "No, I'll have to... oh." Tony smiled. "Maybe a sewing machine." And he actually laughed at his master's baffled expression.

* * *

><p><em>I actually have no idea if Jotuns and humans can interbreed in Marvel canon (I think comic!Loki might have half-human kids? The only comics I've read are<em> Loki: Agent of Asgard and<em> various Deadpool, so I'm not too familiar with them). But regardless, they can't for this story, we don't need _that_ added complication in this world!_


	9. Chapter 9

_And finally we get (some) adult content! _

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><p>Tony pushed the safety goggles up and tugged at one of the thick gloves. "Not bad, huh?" Hands freed, he pushed sweaty hair from his eyes, turning to grin at his audience.<p>

"Very nice," Loki said, and it was anybody's guess if he was impressed or not as he gazed at Tony's little spur-of-the-moment project. Tony chose to believe he was. "What is it?"

"Well..." Tony took a step back to examine his latest creation. "Coat rack? Pot holder? I don't know. I was bored, and working with what I had..."

Loki made an indecipherable sound in his throat."Word is spreading already. Soon you won't have a free moment, after everybody brings their repairs to you."

That was okay by Tony. He missed being handy, being useful. He wanted Jotuns to want him for something besides carnal desire again. "Do you have any repairs for me?"

"Not at the moment. I will find you something... useful to work on."

"This could be useful," Tony protested. But it was finished, and it was time to start something new, so Tony hunted for some paper to begin sketching... whatever came to mind. He shoved tools and parts aside to clear a spot on the table.

"I will be in the study," Loki said.

"Okay, Master." Tony was only half paying attention as he studied the paper, waiting to see what form would coalesce on it. He was only vaguely aware of the fact that the prince did not leave.

"Tony?"

"Hmm?"

A pause, then, "What was her name?"

Tony turned the paper slightly, sketching a few lines onto it. "Whose?"

"The one you loved. The one taken from you."

Tony's mind screeched to a halt. Partly-formed plans forgotten, he turned. Loki watched him, face blank. "What?"

"What was her name?" Loki repeated.

Tony took a deep breath. Why did he have to bring _that_ up? It wasn't like he could refuse his master... Though, really, it wasn't like it would do any harm, either. "Pepper."

Loki's eyebrow rose. "Pepper?"

"Virginia. But I called her Pepper." Tony swallowed, mentally pleading with his master not to ask any follow-up questions. He didn't want to talk about her. Oh, but now that Loki was expressing curiosity, he would ask. Questions like how they had met _(__repair job for her father__)_, how long they had been together _(three years)_, if they had planned on having kids _(she wanted to, I didn't, I couldn't bring a child into this world)_, who had taken her _(I don't know, they didn't say a word when they took her away)_... Tony's throat constricted.

"Mine was Angrboda." Loki's voice was so low, Tony almost missed it as he wallowed in his own misery. He shook himself, blinking at the prince.

"What?"

"Angrboda. A Jotun woman. We cared for each other, so they took her away."

"I... what?" Tony was dumbfounded. Why would that have happened to _Loki_?

Loki smiled wryly. "I was young and stupid." If _he_ had been 'young and stupid', that must have been centuries ago. A lot less raw than Tony's loss, at least. "I am not allowed to marry, so I always knew any relationships would not culminate in an official union. But I am also not allowed to have any children. Rather than take any chances, and since my father kindly forbade a prince being forcibly sterilized, they just... shipped her back to Jotunheim before we had exchanged more than smiles."

"Oh," was all Tony could say.

"It's for the best," Loki said. A lie? Tony couldn't tell; he could never tell with Loki. "If I _had_ accidentally impregnated her... well. That would have been much less pleasant, don't you think?" Tony could only nod, and Loki nodded back. "Fortunate I enjoy the company of males as well."

The thought of Loki with a big brutish bastard Jotun was hardly appealing, but again Tony just nodded. "You, uh... were going to the study?"

"I had not forgotten." Turning away, Loki began stripping off the stiff clothing he had worn to court earlier, setting it aside for cleaning. Tony hurried to fetch a comfortable robe, holding it out for his master. He couldn't help letting his eyes wander over exposed flesh until Loki finished tying the robe. "Perhaps a bath?" Loki suggested with a light smirk before turning away.

"It's hot work," Tony muttered to himself after Loki had regally swept out. He sniffed curiously at an armpit and shrugged. Leaving the barely-formed plans behind for the time being, he walked into the adjoining bathroom, enjoying as always the sight of the large tub. He would never complain about being commanded to soak in a nice hot bath.

Tony added just a little bit of bath foam to the running water, leaving the rest of the crystal bottles alone. He wanted to smell clean, not like flowers. After removing his loincloth, he sank into the bubbly water and let his eyes drift shut.

After his discussion with Loki, it would not be safe to let his mind wander. There were some memories he just preferred to stay far away from; hopefully now that his master's curiosity was sated, he would never bring it up again. Before anything unwanted could enter his thoughts while he relaxed, Tony brought up the mental image of his mostly blank plans, mentally working on creating schematics. What would he create, if money and materials were no object? A new weapon, perhaps. Something he could use against the Jotuns – except Loki, but hell, he'd probably help. What would be the perfect weapon to use against humanity's oppressors? Tony pondered, sinking further into the bubbles as he let ideas come to life.

They didn't. Instead of machines and plans, Tony's mind instead shifted its focus to long sapphire limbs. He did not stop it, for that was still better than certain unhappy topics. He enjoyed Loki's body; he always had, long before he came to actually like his master. He wasn't sure _why_ that mental image popped into his head, but he wasn't going to fight it. Tony could easily picture Loki's naked body, having seen him undress almost every day. Granted, he tried to avert his eyes and not _look_ like he was watching, and it was often in the dark, but he had seen enough.

Tony allowed his mental eyes to roam. He raked them up long legs and over a perfectly (in Tony's opinion) rounded ass. 'Round the front to... well. Tony had seen many naked Jotuns, and Loki was about average in size. But of course, his considerably smaller body made him look much more impressive. Tony had never seen his master erect and let himself picture it, Loki laying in bed, his cock grown stiff and purple. He was hairless there, Tony had been almost disappointed to discover. Apparently his head was the only part of his body he had managed to grow any. But Tony could just as easily tease his fingers over smooth skin as through black curls...

Tony shook himself slightly. When had his mind decided to involve _him_ in this scenario? He thought he was just picturing his master's nude body, not participating! But he was not opposed to the idea. Even if he hadn't found Loki attractive, the whole forbidden aspect made the scenario delicious to imagine. Jotuns were expected to fuck their slaves; being dominated by them was strictly forbidden, with harsh punishment for both master and slave. There were especially strict laws regarding a female Jotun with a male slave (Tony was not unfamiliar with that situation, either).

So when Tony started picturing himself stretched out atop Loki, exploring his body in ways that would likely get him killed, he did not fight that either. He knew every line that crossed Loki's body – after all, the same lines were painted on Tony. He mentally traced them with his tongue, shivering at the cool skin, and Loki shivered for other reasons. He let his hand explore, teasingly ignoring the prominent erection, wanting to make his master beg. Tony couldn't help but wonder: what would it feel like, being inside a Frost Giant? He had fucked his share of humans in the ass, male and female. It stood to reason a Jotun would not have the same heat.

Such thoughts were almost too much for Tony. He gripped himself hard, biting his lip to keep silent lest cleaning slaves happened to be in the bedroom. He would be beaten bloody just for entertaining such thoughts about his master.

It did not take many strokes before Tony was arching back in the tub, almost dunking his head underwater as he was overcome with waves of pleasure rocking through him. He let his hand flop into the water with a pleased sigh when it passed. Then, wrinkling his nose, Tony pulled himself out of the water he had just come in.

Tony grabbed a towel, drying himself off, not feeling an ounce of guilt or annoyance with himself. His master was sexy, so what? And he had long since grown resigned to the fact that he liked him. Loki clearly had no interest in doing anything with his slave, so Tony would have to get used to fantasies. Well, either that, or become possibly the first slave in Jotun-owned-Earth history to have to seduce his master. And then maybe get dragged outside and shot for seducing a Jotun, so fantasies it was.

Tony dressed and returned to his cluttered desk. No cleaning slaves to disturb him, good. He resumed studying his paper, and began to sketch an engine when the mood struck.


	10. Chapter 10

_Warning for attempted rape._

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><p>"Where do you head next?" the elderly slave Gloria asked, hemming a skirt on her crude sewing machine. They shared, but she used it the most often, claiming seniority. (The time Tony had teasingly pointed out that that should mean she was the best and fastest sewer and thus had the least need for the machine, she had responded with a rather impolite gesture.)<p>

"I have some rooms to clean," Tony said, setting aside the pair of socks he had finished. "Same old, same old." He stood, making sure he had everything in the laundry basket. The end of a long piece of silk flopped out.

"Scarves," one of the women, Isabelle, scoffed. "What sort of Frost Giant wears scarves?"

"I haven't actually seen him wear one yet," Tony said, tucking the scarf back into the basket where it belonged. "Maybe he just collects them? I don't know..."

"What are you going to make us next?" Gloria asked with a teasing smile.

"A tank," Tony said with a perfectly straight face. "A big one. Nobody will ever fuck with the sewing ladies again. How does purple sound?"

The young Constance tossed a shirt at Tony. "Get lost. Go sex the prince into a coma to give you more time to build us presents."

Tony caught the shirt, tossing it aside with a laugh. He left them behind with goodbyes and promises for future presents, returning to Loki's rooms to deposit the laundry. They were empty. That was always a relief; Tony had never forgotten the promises that had been made to keep an eye on Tony and Loki, make sure he was being a good slave. Despite Loki's insistence that nobody would barge into his rooms unannounced, it remained a fear in the back of Tony's mind. Anywhere else, they acted the perfect master slave combo. In private, not so much, and that was dangerous.

He set the laundry basket down to work on later, and ventured back out.

The throne room had enough slaves dealing with it, so he moved on. Next was the conference room. Tony had a strange dislike for that particular room, though he honestly couldn't say why. It was large – as the majority of the palace was – housing a square table bearing the scars of many heated arguments. One wall was lined with windows, and another with bookshelves. Not even those interested Tony. They were the type of books whose very spines made him drowsy. The room also bore a sense of mustiness that no amount of cleaning could dispel.

Were Tony a Jotun, he would not spend his free time in the conference room. And yet there they were. A female held onto the leash of her slave girl while chatting with a male, and a pair of males Tony vaguely recognized were in another corner talking together. All glanced at Tony as he entered. Three promptly lost interest, though one of the males' eyes lingered. Tony ignored him.

One other cleaning slave was in the middle of the never-ending task of sweeping. Tony found the duster and set to work on the bookshelves, refusing to look up or acknowledge those watching him, though the sensation of eyes on him remained.

While he tried to tune out the nearby conversations, some of it managed to filter in. Nothing worth listening in on, though one Jotun mentioned the king, and Tony found himself wondering about the distant ruler he hoped to never meet.

Was he satisfied by the reports he was given about Tony? Did a pleased smile grace his royal ugly face when he was told about how miserable Loki was with a slave, always scowling, beating him whenever he stepped out of line? Of course, that mental image of the king was colored by Loki's hatred of him. For all Tony knew, Laufey just thought a slave would be a good learning experience for his son, like a first pet. Why he had been insistent on that pet being their best weapon developer, Tony would never know, but he was glad that...

Tony paused in his cleaning and let out a slow breath. And there it was. He was officially glad to be Loki's slave. He was not longing for his days of pseudo freedom in his own home. He was, at that very moment, practically naked and painted like a Jotun, dusting books, bored out of his mind, with Jotuns eyeing him like he was a tasty feast. And he didn't care. Because he liked his master.

Well, it wasn't the end of the world. And he had learned from experience that it was not a good idea to let his mind wander when it came to Loki, or he could very well be left in a state that his seamstress friends liked to point out with big grins his meager clothing would not conceal. No mind wandering about Loki in public. Tony resumed his task, frowning at the tops of the books and wondering when the last time a slave had taken a duster to them.

Tony remembered being told that Loki's father did visit on occasion. He wondered how often that happened. He had never asked, loathe to bring up a subject that usually dampened Loki's mood. Hopefully it was only once every few centuries or so.

Once the bookshelves were as clean as they were going to get, Tony set the duster aside and looked to see what was next. He did a startled double take when he realized the room was down to only one other occupant. How long had he taken on the books? The slave had apparently finished his sweeping and moved on to a different room, most of the Jotuns gone to... wherever. Now it was only that tall, hot-eyed male that had spent an uncomfortable amount of time staring at Tony. Geirr, he remembered. Their eyes locked for a fleeting second before Tony looked down, properly subservient.

He moved over to a window and pretended to inspect it, as if discovering grime that had not been there a moment earlier, but he knew it was too late. Geirr had shown an interest in him, and now they were alone. Tony had known all along it was only a matter of time before they no longer cared if they were allowed to touch their prince's property or not. They would have to respect their prince before they could respect his rules. Tony did not look up, even as he heard the heavy footsteps, sensed the Giant moving closer.

"You have been good for our prince?" Geirr rumbled, less than a foot from Tony.

"Of course." Tony kept his voice quiet and deferential. He almost wanted to laugh, as he did every time a Jotun feigned concern for Loki.

Geirr pressed closer, leaving Tony painfully aware that he was only wearing a loincloth. "Truly? How often does he have you, I wonder?"

"That is my master's business," Tony said, trying to sound reluctant, like he really did want to tell Geirr all the juicy details but was forbidden. "You will have to ask him."

"You present yourself in his bed every night like a good slave, I'm sure." His voice had lowered to a deep purr. He reached out, tracing his fingers over Tony's skin, over the fading painted marks. Tony's skin broke out in goosebumps at the light caress, and he felt the same twisting burn in his gut he always felt at the unwanted touch of a Jotun. "Anyplace else? Probably not, he is not the exhibitionist type..." Geirr let out a low chuckle. "Oh. Or does he make you take him? Is that why you will not speak of it?"

Tony swallowed thickly. That was a dangerous line of thinking. "You should not speak of your prince like that." As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Mostly.

Geirr's grip on him tightened painfully. "Perhaps you are the one that should watch your tongue, lest somebody remove it for you." His hand traveled inevitably downward, rubbing over the meager loincloth. With a shudder, Tony let his eyes squeeze shut.

It was a familiar road. It had been a long time since a Jotun had bothered to grope him, normally they just took him then and there. But he had managed dozens of times in the past, he could manage again. There had been times, while he hid in Loki's room reading, that he had entertained the possibility that his days of being a Jotun plaything were over. But he had never truly believed it. The groping hand slipped beneath the thin layer of fabric, stroking him, and Geirr's other hand flipped up the loincloth's backside, exposing him. Tony let out a deep, resigned breath, relaxing his body in preparation of what was to come.

"Tony!"

He automatically jerked away from Geirr, eyes snapping open. The anger in his master's voice sent his heart racing. Tony watched Loki furiously stride toward him, sending glances toward Geirr that he hoped conveyed _This wasn't my idea, Master, I swear!_

"Is this your idea of being right back?" Loki snarled.

It took a moment for Tony to find his voice. "I..." And then, abruptly, he relaxed. He had never made any such promise to Loki. He was being rescued. "I'm sorry, Master." Geirr was watching, so Tony did not let the terror leave his eyes.

Tony was reminded of just how lucky he was that his master had little reason to be genuinely angry with him. It was a terrifying sight. "Get back to my room. Now!"

Tony gave Geirr what he hoped was an apologetic look as he scurried from the room, Loki at his heels. They kept up the charade of shamed slave and angry master for the entire trip to their rooms, as usual ignoring the snickers they left in their wake.

Pretense was dropped once the door was on the latch. Loki's furious expression fell back into neutral, and Tony gave him a grateful smile. "Good timing," he said. "Thank you. Did you know what was going on?"

"I was informed," Loki said softly, and Tony flinched back when he saw something dark in his eyes. "You are all right?"

"Me?" Tony blinked. Clearly Loki could see that Tony had been rescued before anything happened. "I'm fine."

"He touched you." His lips pressed tightly together. It was quickly becoming apparent that Loki was holding back a great deal of rage. "He tried to-"

"I know." Tony realized he was actually kind of touched by his master's fury, unnecessary as it was. He stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on his arm. "It's fine. Don't worry."

Loki's eyes flicked down to Tony's hand, then back to his face. "Are you... trying to comfort me?"

Tony jerked his hand away like Loki was a stove. "I'm sorry, Master. You looked upset."

Loki just stared at him, with an expression that made Tony want to check a mirror to make sure a second head wasn't growing out of his neck. "I'm upset? What about _you_?"

"Me?" Tony realized he was gaping like a fish and snapped his jaw shut. "Nothing happened." He was completely baffled. Loki had been around humans his entire life, surely he knew what their lives entailed? "That's being human. That's what we put up with all the time. You just have to... learn to live with it." He let his smile return, to show that everything was okay. "I'd call a near-miss a _happy_ occasion."

Tony's hope that he had diffused the situation died a little with every long second Loki just stared at him. It was almost a struggle to not squirm under the horrified scrutiny. Tony wondered what else he could say to placate his master, but just as he opened his mouth, Loki turned and walked out of the room with long strides.

Tony could only stare after him, feeling completely lost. "What did I do this time?" he asked the empty room. And how much trouble was he going to be in when his master returned?


	11. Chapter 11

_Augh, I hate how this chapter turned out. But I'm tired of editing it, so it is what it is._

* * *

><p>Loki had not returned that night, and Tony slept on the floor. Rather, he slept once he was able to calm his brain enough to allow it. He had accomplished that by convincing himself that his master couldn't possibly be angry at <em>him<em>, and there would be no repercussions. And when Tony awakened in the pale morning light, he silently tugged one of the bed's curtains aside, and let out a small sigh of relief at the sight of his master sound asleep. He let the curtain fall closed and stood. After tying on a clean loincloth, he set about his morning chores, mood improved simply by Loki's presence.

By the time Tony had finished cleaning up in the bathroom, Loki was awake and robed, waiting for him. Tony felt a brief moment of mild panic, wondering what to do. Pretend yesterday hadn't happened? Sit down and talk about it? Reassure him some more that he was perfectly fine?

"You did nothing wrong," Loki said, so that answered that.

_No kidding._ Tony nodded, throwing in a smile so Loki knew he wasn't worried.

"I just needed to let off some steam."

"It's okay," Tony said. Yeah, he got it. Loki don't _want_ him to be upset and traumatized, but he also wanted such occurrences to be rare enough that they would upset and traumatize him. It was sweet, but Loki would just have to get used to it.

"I will take a bath."

"Yes, Master." Tony returned to the bathroom to run some water into the tub, considerably cooler than he would for himself. He added bubbles, and some scented liquid from an orange bottle that had to have another purpose, but all he knew was the light citrus scent it gave Loki's hair. He swapped places with Loki and sought out chores that needed taking care of around the bedroom. Hearing splashing from the bathroom, he firmly thought about math equations.

He was on his way to check under the bed for dust bunnies when the sight of his work desk stopped him in his tracks. Tony blinked down at the new items scattered all over it. Random scraps and parts that had definitely not been there the night before, which raised the question of how Loki had brought in, and dumped out a bag full of metal while Tony was sleeping. And a new stack of books. Apparently shopping had been Loki's method of clearing his head. Tony sat down, running his finger over the metal bits, already pondering what he could make with them. Maybe something new for the kitchen, like a pasta maker or fancy mixer. Or a robot! Tony had actually dreamed of an assistant of his own construct doing chores for him. He couldn't really see a robot in the parts that currently adorned his desk, but maybe a small part of one... Or perhaps just a set of mechanical rotating shelves to hold his vast and varied wardrobe, ha.

As various ideas flitted through his head, a sudden realization hit him like a punch in the face. Tony actually dropped the part he had picked up, wincing.

He had never built anything for Loki.

His master brought something back for Tony damn near every time he went out. And Tony spent much of his time repairing whatever other Jotuns brought over, or building gadgets for others, usually slaves. He had not created anything just for Loki.

Well that would have to change. Tony's mind reversed direction as he looked over the new parts, adding them to his mental inventory, wondering what he could make. What _did_ one give a prince? What would Loki want? Probably not a weapon, and his father might frown upon that. Or would he? Maybe a small weapon... Or just something decorative. Because if there was one thing the prince was lacking in his luxurious, lavishly decorated palace, it was something decorative.

Tony sighed. This would take a lot of thought.

If there was one thing Tony had plenty of, though, it was time. He wasn't going to just sit down and force an idea; he was going to let the perfect idea come to him. Now that he had the beginning of a plan germinating in his brain, he plucked up the book from the top of the new stack. Fiction, which Tony had always found rather silly, but it would do. _The Mystery of Orchard City._ It sounded like a juvenile story, but the back cover promised a Jotun detective investigating a series of murders, so Tony settled back in his chair and opened up to the first page.

It wasn't a bad read, he supposed. The detective was just arriving at the titular city when Loki emerged from the bathroom. Tony glanced up, and swallowed a ridiculous sense of disappointment that his master had dressed without help. A small, wicked part of him wondered if he should remove all clothing from the bathroom so that could not happen again.

"Good?" Loki said.

"What?" Tony blinked. "I wasn't... oh." His eyes flicked down to the book. "Not bad so far."

"That is your job today."

"Reading?" Tony looked back at the novel with a smirk. "I'm the book-tester?"

"If I read anything dull, I am holding you personally accountable." Loki kept a straight face throughout. He was good at that.

"Yes, Master." Tony watched Loki leave the room, and added just as he was at the door, "Have a good day."

Loki hesitated in the doorway. "I shall make an attempt," he said before leaving. The door swung gently shut behind him.

Tony returned to his book. Apparently he had a job to do. His fingers occasionally itched to work on building or fixing something, and he would take a break to do some of the minor repairs that had been brought to him. One radio in particular had to be fifty years old, and was fun to poke through.

Tony finished the book quickly. He had guessed the secret behind the "mysterious" murders early on, anyway, and was able to skim a lot of it. He plucked out another book at random from the new stack, taking in the cover. Its soft pastel colors, and the scene of a couple locked in a loving embrace amidst swirling flower petals, left no doubt in his mind as to the genre, even without the corny title _Forbidden Passion_. The odd thing about the cover illustration was the couple; a Jotun male and beautiful human female.

He didn't have time to so much as flip the book over and read the back cover before the door swung open. It was still early. Tony looked up with a smile to see what his master had forgotten, but it evaporated in an instant. His heart pounded at the sight of Jotun guards in the doorway looking straight at him. Nobody had ever dared barge into the prince's room before. Loki had always said they wouldn't! And Tony had always feared they would.

Tony was frozen, only able to stare at the Giants as they strode into the room, an icy ball of terror forming in the pit of his stomach. "The prince isn't here," he forced out, proud of how even he kept his voice.

"We are not here for him," one of the guards said, killing the tiny sliver of hope Tony had mustered. "Come with us." He held up the leash Tony realized he had been carrying all along. His eyes locked on it and he couldn't breathe. When Tony failed to move, the Jotun stepped closer and clipped the leash to his collar, giving it a tug.

It would do him no good to panic. After firmly telling himself that they weren't going to kill him, and he could handle anything else, Tony blanked his mind and followed the guards. Not that he had a choice. He had to step quickly to keep up with their much longer strides, as they made no attempt to slow down for the smaller human's sake. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He would face whatever fate they had in store for him with quiet dignity. The prince's slave was not going to blubber and beg, even in the worst case scenario.

Still breathing deeply to try and keep calm, Tony thought back, wondering what he could have done wrong. Had there been plans today? Was he supposed to be someplace, rather than hiding out in his room? He could not think of any such plans... Were they angry about yesterday? What was there to be angry about? Tony had only left because he was commanded to! He couldn't obey everybody at once. No, it had to be something else. Had he screwed up on a repair? Was somebody angry that he was building and creating again at all?

Tony shook his head. He would find out very shortly. No use stressing about it.

Sure enough, they soon reached their destination: a disturbingly empty room. Mostly empty. It did contain a table that held implements of punishment. Tony's eyes fixed on the table, on the crops and whips and... more creative tools his mind shied away from. That was it, that was all the room contained. Four walls and means of punishment. The door slammed closed like a tomb.

Besides the guards, the only other Jotuns in the room were an important-looking official, and Geirr. Tony swallowed thickly. "So... so this is about yesterday?" he said, earning shocked and annoyed looks from the Giants. Look, the pathetic human was speaking up. He lowered his head. He would go to his punishment with quiet dignity, but he was not going to turn it into an execution by neglecting the usual rules of proper subservience. "Please, Masters. I had to leave, my master commanded me, I-"

"Enough," a guard snapped. "On your knees, slave." Tony quickly obeyed, and the leash was dropped to the floor along with him.

"This isn't about you leaving." Geirr sounded murderous. "This is about the snake in my bed!"

Tony went cold. He looked back up at his accuser in shock. "Wh-what?"

"I woke up this morning and there was a snake! I knew you were just pretending to be sad to leave me yesterday, and you sought revenge!"

Tony couldn't even make his voice work to protest properly. He looked to the guards, the official, silently pleading with them to not believe such nonsense. It was a small measure of relief that their looks of disgust were directed at Geirr.

"It was not a real snake..." a guard said.

Geirr gave them a nasty look. "Well, no. But everybody knows how I feel about snakes!"

"I didn't," Tony said, finally able to find his voice. A harmless prank would not be _quite_ as severely punished as an attempt to harm or murder a Jotun. But still. "I had nothing to do with this. I was in the prince's room all night!"

"There was an artificial snake in his bed," said the official. "Somebody put it there."

Tony shot Geirr an accusing look, but there was no flicker of smugness or anything to indicate guilt. As far as he could tell, Geirr genuinely believed Tony was the guilty party. "It wasn't me." The second the words were out of his mouth, Geirr strode forward and snatched Tony up by his leash, punching him in the face. Tony tumbled to the floor with a grunt of pain, stars sparkling in his vision. He rubbed his jaw, surprised to find it intact. Even in a fit of rage, Geirr had clearly been holding back. A Frost Giant could do considerable damage to a human with one punch.

The official had taken a thick crop from the table, and Tony felt a small measure of relief. That was about the _least_ horrifying tool on that table; beatings were common and manageable. Tony had yet to experience flat-out torture as punishment, and he hoped he never would. If that had been a real snake...

All it would take was one Jotun to hate Tony enough to frame him for a much, much worse crime.

The crop came down hard on his back, much harder than when Loki was forced to punish him. Tony assumed his usual beating position, bracing himself, breathing deeply. Again and again the fiery blows landed on his back, until he felt blood trickling down his sides. He stopped bothering to count the blows, instead envisioning the schematics of a new missile that would turn Geirr into gory little bits. He let the blueprint unfold in his head as he tried to ignore the ever-growing pain.

"You're stopping already?" Geirr said with a sniff, and Tony realized the blows had indeed ceased. He wondered how many that had been. He should have kept count.

"It's done," the official said. "It's over. Get on with your life, Geirr, unless you want the prince to notice you have a personal vendetta against his slave."

"I'm done with him if he's done with me..." Geirr leveled one last glare at Tony before stalking out of the room. A guard fetched Tony's leash, tugging him to his feet. No other words were spoken, they just led him back to Loki's rooms. Blood occasionally trickled to the floor. Tony felt kind of bad for the slaves that would have to clean up.

They unclipped the leash once he was inside, and closed the door behind themselves, leaving him alone. Tony made his way straight to the bathroom, where he soaked a rag and carefully cleaned up his back. A much easier task for somebody else to do, but Tony didn't feel like calling for another slave. He made do. And he did not leave the bathroom until he was sure he would not drip any blood on the bedroom floor.

He sat at his desk, leaning forward in the chair. Reading would take his mind off matters, but Tony wanted to create.

It was hard to concentrate, to really focus. He would save Loki's gift for later. Instead, he began plans for a new gun, something he could do in his sleep. He lost himself in the sketches, ignoring his burning back and throbbing jaw in favor of the creations mechanically unfolding.

Before he knew it, Tony had pages of sketches, detailing a variety of guns from all angles. He flipped the latest page over and was just starting in on a new one when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. Tony hadn't even been aware of anybody entering. He set the pencil down, flexing cramped fingers, and turned to face his master.

Unsurprisingly, Loki did not look pleased. That rage was once again simmering just below the surface. Tony was starting to wonder when he had last seen the prince in a good mood.

"Who did this?" Loki asked, voice deadly quiet. He had already had a good look at Tony's back; now he took in his bruised face. "Tell me now."

"I didn't catch his name," Tony said with a shake of his head. "Some official."

"That does not help. Draw his markings for me." Loki pointed at the blank page.

Tony flexed his hand again. The official was irrelevant. "It was because of the one from yesterday. Geirr."

"Him?" Loki looked startled for a brief instant.

Tony nodded. "He accused me of putting toy snakes in his bed." Loki's eyes widened, and Tony hurried on, "I swear, Master, I had nothing to do with that! I was here the whole time. I know I can't prove it, you were gone the whole time, but..." Tony trailed off, blinking. Ohh. He couldn't believe it had not dawned on him sooner. "You were gone the whole time." Loki didn't even bother to school his features into their usual neutral. "What else did you buy when you were out shopping to let off steam?"

Loki actually averted his gaze. "Tony..."

"How could you?" Tony slowly stood from his chair. Loki held his ground, but wouldn't look at him. "Surely it must have occurred to you that I would be blamed for anything done to Geirr?" No answer. "I... they could have killed me if they wanted! If something had happened to him!" Tony wasn't sure what harm rubber snakes could have done, but he didn't care. It could have happened. Geirr probably wanted him dead as it was. "Of course they're going to think that any prank..." He trailed off again, the horrifying realizations piling on one another. "It was always you," he said softly. Then raised his voice. "All those pranks I've been hearing about since I was brought here! Every time their food was tampered with, and they blamed the kitchen slaves. Or their clothes were tampered with, and they blamed the laundry slaves. Slaves are being punished for your bit of fun!"

"Tony..."

"Don't you _think_? Don't you ever-" This time, when Tony cut himself off, he didn't let himself speak again.

He was yelling at his master.

Tony's anger dissolved, leaving him with numb horror and a bit of self hatred. Loki was finally looking at him, expression shocked. Tony was still pretty certain his master would not have him killed, and he had never been keen on punishing his slave himself. He had, though, once threatened to have Tony sleep in the guards' barracks. And he had been genuinely angry with Tony at the time; he doubted it was an idle threat. Tony lowered his head and closed his eyes, awaiting whatever was to come.

A hand fisted in his hair, jerking his head up, and Tony flinched. Cool lips pressed against his.

It was too much. Tony's mind went blank. He was dimly aware of Loki's hands moving to his hips. Of Loki's tongue, which he automatically parted his lips for. Of a faint citrus scent. A soft whine escaped his throat a moment later when Loki pulled back.

Tony finally forced his eyes open, just in time to see the barest flicker of guilt cross Loki's features. It just screamed _What am I doing? I cannot take advantage of my slave. I will not be like them. _And Tony would be damned if he would let Loki stop kissing him because he felt guilty about their status. He surged forward, grabbing Loki by the shoulders, tugging him in for a hard, bruising kiss. All of the pent-up desires he had stifled in his master's presence were coming to the fore, released in one passionate kiss. Loki went stiff in surprise, but only briefly, soon melting into it.

Tony lost himself in the moment, never wanting it to end, certain he would never get this opportunity again. Loki was (adorably) awkward, his inexperience kind of depressing but now was not the time to think about that. His mouth was warm, not hot, and tasted vaguely of cinnamon. Tony had always imagined kissing Loki would be minty; he must have recently eaten dessert.

They reluctantly drew apart, breathing heavily, not letting go of one another. To Tony's surprise, Loki's lips curved into a smile. _Maybe I should yell at him more often,_ he thought giddily. The reason he had been yelling at Loki seeped back into his brain, and Tony's own smile fell. "I'm still mad at you."

Loki reached a hand up to stroke Tony's bruised face. "I know." He brought his other hand up to cup Tony's face, and they tenderly kissed again. Despite Tony's fears, there didn't seem to be an end in sight.


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha followed the Jotun that held her leash, head hanging in defeat as she was forced to hurry after him. She cast furtive glances around the bleak hallway, chest heaving with gulped breaths. She did not struggle; the bruises on her face were testament to her earlier attempts at escape.

The halls were cold and sterile, lit by flickering florescents that sapped the color from her skin. Though large windows could be seen at the far end, their light did nothing to cheer the place up. The doors lining the hallway were locked tight, whatever atrocities being committed on the other side hidden from sight. Discarded tables and – alarming in a complex that was supposed to be dedicated to science – gurneys occasionally lined the walls. They periodically passed by other Jotun scientists striding in the opposite direction, but they paid Natasha and her captor no attention.

The Jotun stopped at one of the doors, swiping a card through a reader set above the handle. A small red light blinked to green, and he swung the door open, tugging Natasha in after him. The door glided shut with barely a sound.

She took a step backward, shaking her head as she took in the room with wide eyes. A human-sized metal table with straps, immaculate shelves covered in surgical instruments and beakers of strange liquids, needles, bins and refrigerators. Nice enough to a scientist, but nightmarish for the test subjects.

"Come," the scientist said. He led his latest experiment to the table, easily lifting her onto it. Natasha was instantly chilled through, her meager dress useless against the cold metal. A whimper escaped with every panicked breath as she was forced back on the table, limbs stretched out. He calmly fastened the strap around her left wrist, not looking upset but not happy either, not fazed at all by what he was doing. It was just work. She was just another human.

Just another pathetic, weak human. Natasha almost felt sorry for him, so trusting of the pathetic figure he was fastening down.

Almost. She slammed her free hand hard up into the Jotun's throat, sending him jerking back with a choked cry. She lashed out with a foot, feeling a jolt up her leg when it connected, and he crumpled.

It was one of the reasons she would always be a better spy than Clint. While they looked down on all humans as weak, they would be more cautious with a muscular male. They never would have left one of Clint's arms free while working on the other. Natasha did not for a moment feel insulted by the slight against her gender. It had proven useful time and time again.

Natasha yanked the binding from her other arm and rolled off the table, launching herself toward the counters before the Jotun had time to recover. She selected a decently bladed tool from the row of instruments and turned to finish the job, quickly and efficiently slitting his throat. She waited, poised, for several heartbeats – Jotuns were tough bastards, but this one stayed down.

Natasha took a deep breath, relaxing now that she was free in the compound. Really, that had been too easy; the Frost Giants were too complacent, too assured in their position. The last war and the crushing of human rebellion was too fresh in their memories, just adding to the belief that they were secure as unchallenged rulers of Earth. Thus, it was the perfect time for another Uprising. They would never expect it to happen again, so soon from their point of view after the last one. They believed humans thoroughly beaten back into submission for good.

Natasha ran her fingers along the collar, pondering for a moment, before removing it. A human would not be wandering around the compound alone, collared or not. She had willingly worn them in the past to ease suspicions, but it would do her no good here.

She helped herself to the dead Jotun's keycard before doing her best to drag the body someplace it would not be immediately spotted if somebody peeked in, and cleaned up the blood, trying as best she could to return the room to its depressingly immaculate state. There was nowhere she could truly hide the large body, but she remained hopeful it would be some time before anybody _did_ peek in. Finally, she studied the array of instruments, and selected a couple more that would make decent weapons, sliding them into pockets.

Ready, Natasha cracked open the door, poking her head out to make sure the coast was clear.

It was. She slipped out of the room. It was time to find a super soldier.

The poor bastard. Thoroughly defeated, only to wake up a lifetime later to discover not only had the resistance been crushed long ago, but everybody he had ever known and loved was gone. And on top of that, he remained in Jotun hands, and they locked him up to constantly experiment on him, to try and figure out how to recreate the serum. And because of that, numerous other humans also had to suffer as the guinea pigs.

The Giants would definitely notice _he_ was gone. It was a risky move, taking him. Even if she succeeded, they would be pursued. But it was an opportunity they just could not pass up. There had been much debate on the pros and cons of rescuing somebody the Jotuns would actually really want back, and in the end the pros won.

The sound of a door opening sent Natasha under the nearest table. It wasn't the best hiding spot, the Jotun scientists not exactly draping tablecloths over the metal furniture, but nobody was expecting to find random humans hiding in the hallway and nobody paused to look. She held her breath. The footsteps did not slow as they neared her table, and continued past, eventually fading entirely. She waited a while longer before venturing back out.

She had a fairly good idea of which room was her destination. The scientist whose household she had infiltrated had been embarrassingly easy to ply with fiery Jotun liquor, and was rather eager to spill his guts about their experiments to the pretty girl once he was suitably inebriated.

Natasha tightened her grip on her weapon. Too easy so far. She was just waiting for everything to go horribly wrong.

She paused in front of a door, senses heightened as she listened for anybody in the hall, or anything within the room. She slid the keycard and carefully let herself in.

Natasha and the Jotun stared at each other in equal surprise for a tense second, before she lunged forward, weapon at the ready. For a scientist, he was surprisingly fast, kicking her away, weapon sent spinning. Natasha landed in a crouch, quickly launching back at her target. _Can't give him any opportunity to sound an alarm! _She pulled one of her backup instruments out, a much smaller blade than the first, but it would work if she chose the right spot. How much easier this would be with a human target; a quick snap of the neck, a fling into a wall, a blade jabbed pretty much anywhere... so many options unavailable with a much tougher species.

Fortunately, humans were the perfect height to go for Jotuns' balls, and Natasha was not above frequently taking advantage of that. A quick stab, and the scientist was down. She retrieved the larger blade to swiftly kill him.

Natasha took a deep breath, running a hand through her disguised hair. Wrong room. She let her gaze fall on the whimpering slave woman tied to the table in the center – Natasha's fate had she somehow not been able to escape. It was enough to make one sick... if one had not seen everything Natasha had. She didn't allow herself time to think. She murmured words of comfort as she approached the slave and put her out of her misery.

Natasha did what she could to tidy the room, hide the scientist's body and disguise the fact that the slave was dead. She slipped back out into the hallway, hunting for the correct door, hiding where she could from any approaching noise.

_There_ it was. The room her unwitting informant had mentioned. Natasha crept closer and unlocked it, bracing herself for an intense fight on the other side.

It never came. By some miracle, the room was mercifully empty of scientists. If they were smarter, if they weren't so cocky and sure of their own superiority, they would have done a little more to protect their most precious specimen. Good thing they weren't. Her informant had laughed about that.

Natasha's breath quickened as she took in the room. _There he is. Finally._ The tall, muscular human was thoroughly strapped to a metal table much like the one she had almost been strapped to. He was dressed only in a loincloth like a personal slave – but unlike your average malnourished slave, this one was quite pleasing to look at. He would be later, anyway, now there was only time for business.

The counters were lined not only with instruments and beakers of mystery liquid, but tubes of whole blood and plasma. An IV, not currently in use, sat near the man.

Natasha only spared a second to take in the sights. She hurried to the table and yanked open the multitude of straps that bound him. Her fears that he had been drugged proved unfounded, as he slowly opened his bright blue eyes to watch her work.

"I'm Natasha," she said, keeping her voice low. "We thought you'd make a nice addition to our resistance group."

He nodded politely. "Steve. And I've done the resistance group thing before; didn't work out too well."

"No kidding." Only a couple left. She unfastened the last of the straps binding his legs. "We're just going to have to do better." She glanced up at him, expecting him to be rubbing life back into his limbs. Instead, he just sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the table. "Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, ma'am." So polite. Was he for real? He slid to the floor without so much as a grunt. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever gets us out of this building," Natasha said, already heading for the door. "Then we'll work on returning to our headquarters."

"You know they'll come looking for me?" Steve was right behind her. Natasha removed one of her extra weapons and passed it back to him.

"We know. We'll just have to make sure they don't see where we're going, for starters."

"And if they do, I assume that's what the weapons are for?"

"Of course." The hallway was empty for the time being, so Natasha crept out of the room. Steve remained behind her, light on his feet for such a big fellow.

She had gone all of ten feet when a door opened and a scientist walked out, almost running right into the escaped pair. His eyes widened in shock, but Natasha was on him with her blade before he had time to make a peep. Steve did not waste a second, joining her with his own instrument, and together they dispatched the Jotun with deadly efficiency.

"That was fast," Steve said in a low voice, striding ahead of Natasha.

"You know how to get out?"

He pointed straight ahead. "Window down there."

"We aren't on the first floor."

"Hide."

They slipped into the shadows of a couple tables, fervently hoping they had not been spotted by the Jotun that strode down the hall. Natasha held her breath, waiting for him to pass. She kept her blade at the ready.

Just when she thought he was passing them by, the Jotun paused and backtracked. He paused near Natasha's table.

He yelped in pain suddenly, whirling to confront his attacker. Steve! Natasha rolled out from under the table, lashing out with her blade, aiming for the tendons of his heel. She missed, only slicing the Jotun's calf. Shit, they needed to shut him up! He had turned on Steve, and Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself on his back. He tried desperately to swing her off, but she held on tight, and managed to slit his throat. She leaped free as he fell.

"That's going to alert somebody," Steve said, glancing at the body that had toppled to the floor.

As if summoned, a shrill alarm rang through the building like a death wail. Steve gave Natasha a grim, worried look, but she merely gave a resigned sigh. _That_ was more like it. Business as usual.

"Didn't you have an escape plan?" Steve asked, eyes widening.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Natasha hurried down the hall, toward the window. "We'll have to find a way to climb down."

"Right." Steve grabbed one of the tables as if it weighed nothing, flinging it at the window as they approached, smashing it to pieces. Natasha winced, but it wasn't like _more_ noise would make a difference.

"Hurry." She glanced back. Oh yes, they were coming. She held her blade up, ready to take down as many as she could.

Steve grabbed her, hefting her up in his arms. "Let's go."

"What?" Natasha looked back toward the group of Jotuns, wanting nothing more than to kill anyone who had seen them. But there were too many... And Steve was approaching the window. "No." He couldn't possibly...! "Wait!"

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her head as Steve leaped. It felt like her stomach was left behind up on the windowsill as they fell two storeys, wind whistling past. Her whole body was jarred to the bone when they landed, and both went rolling.

Natasha sprang back to her feet as soon as she came to a stop. "You crazy bastard."

"Are you okay?" Steve rose stiffly to his feet.

"Fine." She spared a brief moment to stare at him. He at least had the decency to look a little sore from his leap from the window, but if he was winded he didn't show it. He was just as big and muscular and perfect and blond as the books described him. She had long wondered if the tales of his strength and endurance were exaggerated; evidently not.

Would it be worth it, Natasha wondered as the pair escaped into the night, now that the Jotuns would be hunting their escaped super soldier?

They would find out.

* * *

><p><em>And now, here is where we get caught up. That is, when I started posting this story here, I was many chapters ahead where I was posting it for the kink meme. But now both are at the same place. That means I can no longer promise a new chapter every week. :( That's not to say it'll never happen again <em>_– I actually have quite a bit written on the next chapter __– but yeah, new chapters will be less regular now. If I ever take too long, you guys can kick my butt back into action!_


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